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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355192">Unspeakable</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenneWithMilkAndHoney/pseuds/LenneWithMilkAndHoney'>LenneWithMilkAndHoney</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveMeSomeRafael/pseuds/LoveMeSomeRafael'>LoveMeSomeRafael</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But she will kill you if she has to, Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Eating Disorders, First Time, HYDRA sucks, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, NASBB2020, Natasha Romanoff is a Good Bro, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Queen Ramonda is a good wingman, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Slow Burn, So.Much.Swearing., Steve and Bucky have pants feelings for each other oh no!, Swearing, The boys don't know what they're doing but they're sure enthusiastic, Zola is a dick, mentions of forced medical procedures, mentions of torture, post-CATWS, recovering bucky, recovering steve, the Chitauri - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:21:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>110,956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenneWithMilkAndHoney/pseuds/LenneWithMilkAndHoney, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveMeSomeRafael/pseuds/LoveMeSomeRafael</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Winter Soldier, Bucky goes to ground to figure out who he is, and who he’s been.  But for Bucky, remembering is like living it all for the first time.  </p><p>Steve, determined to find him at any cost, learns just how far he’ll go to undo the mistakes he made — mistakes that cost Bucky everything.  </p><p>Together again, with the help of Clint and Sam, they go on the run to keep Bucky out of the hands of the many groups looking to capture him.  Both Steve and Bucky have to learn to live with their pasts, and figure out their feelings for each other, to create a path toward the future.  </p><p>A story of Steve and Bucky finding themselves again, and finding each other at last.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov (briefly), James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Mission Failure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>See end notes for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>MISSION FAILURE</p>
<p>NONCOMPLIANCE</p>
<p>The Soldat’s consciousness doesn’t usually involve words.  When he is active, he thinks in pictures.  Concepts.  The sequence of operations that must be performed to complete his mission.  Action and consequence.  He has instincts.  Reactions.  Body memory.  He has little need for words.</p>
<p>When he is inactive, of course, there is no thought.  There is nothing.</p>
<p>He understands words.  When necessary, he can use them in whatever language his instructions require.  His consciousness, however, avoids words.  They do not like him to use words, even in his consciousness.  The wrong words have consequences.</p>
<p>But when he has been active for more than a few hours, words begin to flicker across his consciousness.  Certain words and phrases always come.  More come, the longer he is active.</p>
<p>MISSION FAILURE is first.</p>
<p>MISSION FAILURE is always first.</p>
<p>Everything The Soldat does has consequences.  Most are bad.  He does and says nothing beyond the bare minimum required, for that reason.  Usually, there are no bad consequences for not acting.  For remaining still and silent, invisible.</p>
<p>There are good consequences.  They are rare.  But sometimes, when his mission is successful, They speak a sentence or two of approval.  Once, when a successful mission was particularly important to Them, They gave him drugs for the pain before They inactivated him.</p>
<p>There are bad consequences.  Most are painful.  Others are agonizing.  Some are merely foul and repulsive.  The Soldat understands what will bring bad consequences.  He avoids those behaviors.  He has learned.  He senses something about his existence, and about things that are done to him, things he is instructed to do.  A feeling of reluctance.  But he does not even acknowledge it.  He will not resist or question.  That is noncompliance.  The Soldat complies.</p>
<p>NONCOMPLIANCE</p>
<p>The consequences for mistakes or suboptimal performance are bad enough.  He cannot always escape those, but he does his utmost to avoid them.  Noncompliance, however, brings much worse consequences.  Much worse.  Considering the consequences for noncompliance causes The Soldat to sweat and tremble, even though he is punished further if he reacts to consequences.</p>
<p>MISSION FAILURE</p>
<p>When words return, the first words that come to The Soldat are MISSION FAILURE because mission failure has the worst consequences of all.  The consequences for mission failure are catastrophic.  Even considering those consequences causes him distress.  Mission failure means fire and water, ice and electricity.  It means procedures, tools, metal, and blood.  Screaming, even though The Soldat rarely makes noise and is not allowed to scream.</p>
<p>They do not always kill him.  They are not supposed to, because he is essential.  But sometimes the consequences for mission failure exceed his capacity and They do kill him.</p>
<p>And that is the worst of all, when They kill him.  Not the killing.  The dragging back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Target on the bridge used a trigger word.  <b> <em>Bucky.</em> </b>  That word has no meaning in any of the languages The Soldat uses, but he is certain that it is a name.</p>
<p>The effect had been weak.  It had caused a brief, disorienting burst of noise in The Soldat’s consciousness, but he had overcome it quickly.  However, The Target had been more capable than his mission parameters had indicated.  He had kept The Soldat fighting for so long that the authorities had time to arrive and The Soldat had been required to retreat.</p>
<p>MISSION FAILURE</p>
<p>The miscalculation was not his.  It was Theirs.  But that, of course, will not alter the consequences.</p>
<p>He thinks now that the trigger was much stronger and more insidious than it had seemed.  It may have been part of the reason for the length of the fight.  There is no doubt that the trigger did something to him, because, when the man had said <b> <em>Bucky</em> </b>, The Remnant within The Soldat awoke.  It had begun to kick and strike and fight with a violence The Soldat does not recall having happened before.</p>
<p>The trigger had far more effect on The Remnant inside The Soldat than on The Soldat himself.</p>
<p>Or so he’d thought.</p>
<p>But now.</p>
<p>The Soldat does not understand, and he is deeply frightened.  Of course, he is frightened of the consequences of his mission failure.  But that is not what is causing the almost unendurable noise in his consciousness, and it is not the source of the terror threatening to overwhelm him.</p>
<p>MALFUNCTION</p>
<p>Whatever the trigger word did to him, the effect is far below the level of his mission parameters.  The Soldat still retains complete details of the mission, which is how he knows the extent of his failure.  The malfunction The Target caused must be in his operations protocols themselves.</p>
<p>The Soldat knows that he has seen The Target before.  He knows that The Target is important.  Since the trigger word, he has been unable to rid his consciousness of The Target, and it enrages him.  Of course, The Soldat is always filled with rage, but this is different.  The Remnant struggles desperately, forcing fragmentary recollections that belong in containment with The Remnant.</p>
<p>The recollections confuse and deeply disturb The Soldat.  A train.  Ice.  A biting cold wind.  Falling.  Terror.  A trail of blood in the snow.  Them.  Anger.  Procedures.  Grief.  Although the recollections do not include The Target, The Soldat somehow understands that the recollections are related to the blond man.  The Soldat thinks that the fragments of recall might be forbidden.  Or perhaps part of the malfunction.</p>
<p>The Soldat knows The Remnant is there.  He knows that They believe They have destroyed what came before, and he has not reported The Remnant’s continued existence.</p>
<p>NONCOMPLIANCE</p>
<p>He has not reported The Remnant because he knows what they will do to attempt to eradicate it.  But he has long known that The Remnant is too strong for Them to kill.  Continued attempts will torture The Soldat, but will not kill The Remnant.  As so many times before.</p>
<p>So The Soldat has kept The Remnant contained and concealed.  It (he?) has been in containment, controlled and quiescent, for a very long time.  In time, he thought The Remnant would weaken and die.</p>
<p>He knows better now.</p>
<p>The trigger used by The Target has awakened The Remnant and strengthened it immeasurably.  And the Soldat is suddenly very afraid that The Target and The Remnant within himself are connected, working together against him.  The Remnant is now so powerful, and so angry, that The Soldat fears for his own existence.  If The Target can somehow free The Remnant from containment, will The Remnant be able to destroy The Soldat?</p>
<p>MALFUNCTION</p>
<p>The malfunction manifests itself again when The Secretary comes for a mission report.  The Soldat has no recall of ever having asked a question of The Secretary before.  He listens, he gives information and acknowledges orders when requested.  The Soldat does not ask questions. </p>
<p>But he asks about The Target.</p>
<p>NONCOMPLIANCE</p>
<p>He sees immediately that asking is noncompliance.  There will be consequences.  The Secretary himself does not administer the consequences, of course.  The Secretary simply lies about The Target and says many things nonessential to the mission.</p>
<p>The Soldat is familiar with these attributes.  The Secretary lies often, even though The Soldat has been trained to detect lies.  He does not react to the lies.  The Secretary also often speaks at length about concepts such as freedom and order, which The Soldat must separate from information.  He does not react to The Secretary’s nonessential speeches.  Only listens.  The Soldat complies.</p>
<p>But not this time.  The Soldat tries to comply, listening carefully.  He intends to remain silent.  But then, as if controlled by another, he resists.</p>
<p>“But I knew him.”</p>
<p>NONCOMPLIANCE</p>
<p>The Soldat knows better.  He is well aware of the consequences for this resistance.  For years, decades, he has not even acknowledged his distant feeling of reluctance.  But today, because of The Target’s trigger, The Soldat is completely unable to stop himself.</p>
<p>MALFUNCTION</p>
<p>The Secretary’s only response is a slight hesitation before he simply stands and begins to give orders to the Handlers.  He leaves it to the Handlers to point out The Soldat’s noncompliance, although They know better than to call it that.  If he was noncompliant, They would be punished for failing to control him.  So one of Them says, “He’s been out of cryofreeze too long.”</p>
<p>And The Secretary endorses the transparent pretense.  “Then wipe him, and start over.”</p>
<p>The Soldat expects this.  The Secretary requires a plausible claim that he has not ordered punishment. The Handlers have now provided that, along with assurance that punishment will occur.  They are all satisfied.  Only The Soldat will suffer.</p>
<p>FUCK</p>
<p>Another indication of the Soldat’s malfunction.  That is not the right word.  Is it?  It feels right.  But it does not make sense.</p>
<p>He allows the Handlers to push him into position and place a bite guard.  Prepares himself as best he can for what is to come.</p>
<p>The procedure called “wipe” is many things.  First, it is excruciatingly painful.  The Soldat is not allowed to scream, but he believes that he does scream during a wipe.  He cannot be sure because, once it begins, his consciousness is entirely transformed and he is completely unaware of what happens to his body.  He does not know why he is restrained.  He does not know what the bite guard is for.  During a wipe, he knows only agony and a sense of eradication as parts of his mind are torn out.</p>
<p>And then, after the horrific procedure itself, comes the aftermath.</p>
<p>After the procedure, The Soldat is… different.  He is still The Soldat, still retains his skills and operations protocols.  In fact, he still retains all but what They have removed.  They remove whatever They choose, whatever They do not want him to retain.  This always includes the previous mission, so that a new mission can be installed. </p>
<p>All of which means that The Soldat emerges from a wipe as a blank slate, with no purpose.  The sensation is terrifying.  The hollow vacancy inside is so hideously <em> wrong </em> that The Soldat craves instruction when he emerges. </p>
<p>This time is no different.  The Soldat emerges from the procedure traumatized and alarmed, hungry for purpose.  Sometimes The Soldat can sense where things have been removed, although of course he does not know what those things were.  Much has been removed this time, including something The Soldat senses was… large.</p>
<p>The series of words, when the Handler says them, are almost comforting.  They provide something for The Soldat’s consciousness to cling to.  When he has responded – a rote reflex of which he is barely aware – The Soldat receives his mission.  He now has a focus, a target.  His mind no longer feels void.  The terror within him subsides.</p>
<p>But the wipe has not repaired the malfunction.  It could not; They are not aware of the malfunction.</p>
<p>The Target’s trigger word.  It has to be.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>The Soldat is put into position and released.  He performs flawlessly.  He leaves one aircraft intact, to transport him to the helicarrier.  Once he has destroyed the enemy’s ability to mount an aerial attack, he leaves the airfield burning and littered with bodies, to find his Target.</p>
<p>But when he catches sight of The Target on the helicarrier, the noise in his head begins again.  He shakes it off.  He is able to accomplish much in a short amount of time, including disabling The Target’s flying accomplice.</p>
<p>Then, The Soldat makes his way down to the communications array and comes face to face with The Target.</p>
<p>His consciousness explodes with noise, even before The Target says any trigger words.  So much noise that The Soldat does not attack immediately.  Instead, he stands staring at The Target, working to silence the noise while The Target begins to speak, as targets do, of stopping The Soldat.  The words make no difference to The Soldat.  Targets beg and try to reason with him; it is what targets do.</p>
<p>As he watches The Target, a word struggles to form.  The experience is very unpleasant.  The word beats at The Soldat’s consciousness, as though it is of vital importance.  The Remnant begins to scream the word, repeating it over and over.  He knows that is what The Remnant is screaming, but not the word itself.   The word will not form.</p>
<p>The Soldat knows, somehow, that the word is not Theirs.  As he tries to allow the word to form, a new pain begins - a tearing, rending pain that he has not felt before in his consciousness.  He pushes the word away.  The exquisite new pain stops.  <em> Ah. </em> The word is forbidden.  Strange that this word is so much more painful than other forbidden words.</p>
<p>The Target again tries the name trigger.  <b> <em>Bucky</em> </b>.</p>
<p>The Soldat feels a bright flare of cold irritation.  Other targets call him many names, but never “Bucky”.  It was a useless tactic during the prior mission, and it is useless now.</p>
<p>DUMBASS</p>
<p>The Soldat startles.  Why does that word form?  It is not a word The Soldat uses.  Is it the man’s name?</p>
<p>The Target is fast and strong.  That shouldn’t matter when The Soldat is shooting.  The Target’s shield offers protection, but it cannot cover The Target’s entire body.  The Target’s headgear is not bulletproof.  The Soldat has a thousand body memories of ways to get around that shield.  All it takes is speed and aim, and The Soldat is more than adequate in both areas.  He should easily kill The Target.</p>
<p>And yet his shots hit The Target in a nonlethal area: the leg.  This is likely more effects of the malfunction caused by the seemingly weak trigger word.  Soon, the Soldat stabs The Target, also.  It is another clear opportunity to kill The Target. </p>
<p>But he cannot.</p>
<p>Even now, the forbidden word still fights to form in his consciousness, and still will not come.  He feels the pain that comes with trying to form the word, and pushes it away again.  The Soldat’s malfunction is now so severe that The Target is able to pin him and cut off his air supply.  He loses consciousness, aware of a strange, distant feeling of relief at his impending death.</p>
<p>But The Target does not kill him.</p>
<p>When The Soldat regains consciousness, The Target is climbing the communications tower.  The Soldat is shocked to find that The Target has not only left him alive, but left him armed.  Such massive tactical errors are confusing in light of The Target’s obvious fighting experience.  No matter.  In climbing, The Target has provided The Soldat another excellent opportunity for a kill shot.  But as he aims, the noise in his consciousness increases until it is so painful and distracting that The Soldat shoots The Target in the torso, another nonlethal area.  The Soldat also fails to evade a falling support strut from the dying helicarrier.</p>
<p>He cannot escape.</p>
<p>The Target sees, and comes for him.  The Soldat tries to get out from under the strut, even knowing that the angle and weight make that impossible.  He cannot give up – perhaps there is still a way to kill The Target and fulfill his mission.  The Soldat is compliant.  The consequences for mission failure...</p>
<p>DANGER</p>
<p>The Soldat is afraid as The Target approaches.  He does not understand the fear.  He is not afraid to die, and the mission briefing was clear that The Target will not torture him.  The Soldat does not know what he fears in this moment, only that he is very, very afraid of the man.</p>
<p>The Soldat is shocked when The Target lifts the strut off of him.  When he does, the noise in The Soldat’s consciousness becomes unbearable.</p>
<p><b> <em>You know me</em> </b>, the man says as the Soldat arises and begins fighting again.  More trigger words.</p>
<p>The sound of the man’s voice, and the words that he says, cause excruciating pain.  So much pain that The Soldat screams a denial to make it stop.</p>
<p>Then The Target tries more trigger words.  <b> <em>Bucky, you’ve known me your whole life.  Your name is James Buchanan Barnes</em> </b>.</p>
<p>NONCOMPLIANCE</p>
<p>The Soldat is not supposed to hear those words.  Those words are forbidden to The Soldat.  Forming those words causes pain, and has consequences similar to mission failure.  Those words are like the other word; the other forbidden word that is still trying to form but will not come.  But the pain of that word is different.</p>
<p>The Soldat strikes out at The Target, again and again, screaming for him to shut up.  It dulls the noise, perhaps, but not the excruciating pain in his consciousness.</p>
<p>So much pain.  The mission briefing They gave him was wrong about this, too.  The Target <em> is </em> torturing him.  In fact, The Target begins to gloat.</p>
<p>“I’m not gonna fight you.”  The Target drops his shield so that it falls out of his reach.  Apparently, he will now fight using only this mind torture.</p>
<p>“You’re my friend,” The Target says.</p>
<p>The noise, pain, and confusion increase.</p>
<p>“You’re my mission!”  The Soldat yells, in an effort to clear it, and launches himself at The Target. </p>
<p>The Target’s torture does not stop The Soldat from taking him down, beginning to hit him in the head, again and again, intending to pulverize his face.  The Target’s torture is shrieking noise and agony in The Soldat’s consciousness.  By now, The Remnant inside The Soldat (could it be a <em> person </em>?) is also clawing fiercely at him, trying desperately to break containment.</p>
<p>So The Soldat begins shouting to try to focus through the pain and internal turmoil, to complete his mission.  “You’re my mission!  You’re my mission!”</p>
<p>Then.</p>
<p>The Target stops fighting and goes calm.</p>
<p><b> <em>Then finish it,</em> </b> The Target says.  <b> <em>‘Cause I’m with you to the end of the line.</em> </b></p>
<p>Much, much stronger trigger words.  The Target should have used those earlier.</p>
<p>The effect is instant and horrifying.  The Soldat is flooded with a feeling of terror and sorrow as he looks down on The Target.  More than that, he feels…  guilt.  Overwhelming guilt at having hurt The Target.  Shame and humiliation.</p>
<p>STEVE</p>
<p>The forbidden word that has been battering his consciousness in an effort to form finally bursts upon him with the full force of accompanying agony.</p>
<p>And that’s the moment The Soldat stops fighting.</p>
<p>MISSION FAILURE</p>
<p>Hearing the man say the trigger words is much like a consequence, or when a mission is installed.  After the man says them, The Soldat understands that killing the man will bring greater pain than mission failure.  He knows this as surely as he knows the consequences of his actions.   That understanding, and the imperative demands of The Remnant inside him…  Those two things make it impossible for The Soldat to complete his mission.</p>
<p>The Soldat’s malfunction then becomes worse.</p>
<p>The structure of the helicarrier fails, and The Soldat watches The Target fall.  The pain in his consciousness, the shrieking and pounding of The Remnant (it <em> is </em> a person, The Soldat realizes) reach an unbearable crescendo.  Again, he is not in control of himself as he releases his hand to drop from the helicarrier into the water.  Against all his programming, he catches hold of The Target beneath the surface, dragging him to shore. </p>
<p>NONCOMPLIANCE</p>
<p>MISSION FAILURE</p>
<p>MALFUNCTION</p>
<p>The Soldat now stands, dripping and staring down at The Target, as if mere scrutiny can provide answers.  Although it would take no effort for The Soldat to complete his mission – The Target is unconscious, lying at The Soldat’s feet – he is aware that he will not.</p>
<p>He cannot.</p>
<p>The Target is alive, and The Soldat has ensured that he will remain alive.</p>
<p>There is too much noise in his consciousness, which is usually so quiet.  So very quiet.  Quiet is safe.  Quiet does not bring pain.</p>
<p>But there is terrible pain now.  The pain from his broken and dislocated arm and the other injuries is not important.  The pain that is overwhelming and debilitating him now is from the noise in his consciousness, and the words.  Far too many words.</p>
<p>The Soldat’s wrath is as much a part of him as his dread of consequences.  That wrath blazes and sears now, causing yet more pain.  His malfunction continues to worsen, and The Remnant within The Soldat is still struggling forcefully and screaming.</p>
<p>It is all very, very disturbing.</p>
<p>And all of it is the fault of the man lying unconscious at his feet.</p>
<p>BIG</p>
<p>The Soldat senses that the man is too big, although he does not know what that means.  He is not troubled by that.  He often does not know what things mean; They only tell him what he needs to know for the mission.</p>
<p>DUMBASS</p>
<p>The Soldat’s constant rage means that, when words come, they are usually angry words.  So he is not particularly troubled that an angry word forms.  But it is a strange word to use.  It feels right, but at the same time, it is not appropriate for The Target.  The Target is not stupid.</p>
<p>The Soldat’s consciousness and instincts, everything about him, is screaming to comply.  He fights the malfunction, because if he kills the man and returns to Them, the painful internal noise will end and there will be no mission failure.</p>
<p>But he cannot.</p>
<p>The Remnant inside of The Soldat continues waging warfare, fighting for release.  It is very strong now.   The Soldat thinks that The Remnant has not been like this before.  Again he has the terrifying thought that The Target and The Remnant are somehow connected and working against him.  He looks again at The Target.</p>
<p>STEVE</p>
<p>The Remnant screams that word, over and over, shrieking and pounding at its confinement.  Still The Soldat fights to overcome the malfunction.  The Soldat focuses on his rage, which urges him to kill the man causing this pain in his consciousness.</p>
<p>But he cannot.</p>
<p>He could not even allow the man to drown.  Doing so would have been both easy and compliant. </p>
<p>But he cannot.  He is malfunctioning.</p>
<p>ESCAPE</p>
<p>RUN</p>
<p>Those words are forbidden, also.  The Soldat has not used those words for…  Has The Soldat ever used those words?  To do so is noncompliance and using them causes him pain.  But the trigger words, the malfunction…  Those words now burst distressingly into his consciousness.  They are repeating, with a corresponding agony every time he thinks them.  The Remnant inside him is now howling them.</p>
<p>The Soldat needs to return to Them.  It is… compliance to return to Them.</p>
<p>But he cannot.</p>
<p>BUCKY</p>
<p>RUN</p>
<p>The Soldat cannot stay.  They are already coming for him; perhaps They are here now.  The malfunction is an irresistible demand that he leave, must not return to Them.  Because of The Target.  The Remnant inside of The Soldat continues to thrash and strive, screeching at The Soldat to run.  The Soldat still wants to kill The Target for causing the noise in his consciousness, and The Remnant’s onslaught.  For making The Soldat noncompliant.  For causing malfunction and mission failure.</p>
<p>But he cannot.</p>
<p>All The Soldat can do is get away from here.  Away from Them, and away from the man.  Which he does.</p>
<p>*       *       *</p>
<p>
  <em> It’s a hot, sultry afternoon and there ain’t shit to do.  Usually, Buck’s good for some idea or other, maybe somewhere to go play stickball, or even a prank they can pull.  Today, there’s nothing.  They’re sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling, idly dropping bits of stuff down onto the street in front of the tenement where Steve lives.  Every once in a while, Bucky’ll put his hand on Steve’s back and pretend he’s gonna push him, but Steve just rolls his eyes. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “C’mon, Buck, let’s do somethin’ if we’re gonna.  You said I had to come out, couldn’t just sit in the apartment drawin’ all day, but all we’re doin’ up here is sweatin’.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “We could go up to the five and dime.  See if maybe Mr. Hoffmann’s got some chore we can do for an ice cream.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Steve shrugs and pushes scraggly, too-long bangs out of his eyes.  “Okay.  Better’n nothin’.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Maybe you can distract him while I steal a look at the comic books.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You’re done for if he catches you doin’ that again, Bucky.” </em>
</p>
<p><em> “ </em> Who the hell is Bucky? <em> ” </em></p>
<p>
  <em> At the dead, metallic sound of his voice, Steve looks up to see that his ten-year-old best friend is no longer sitting next to him.  Instead, standing behind Steve on the roof is The Winter Soldier, silver arm gleaming in the hot sun, bristling with weapons and wearing an absolutely blank stare.  He takes his metal hand from the massive weapon in his arms and, with a casual flick of his wrist, sends Steve’s wispy frame flying out from the rooftop.  Steve flails helplessly as he plummets, screaming. </em>
</p>
<p>He opens his eyes just before he hits the street.</p>
<p>Steve is relieved that, for once, he doesn’t jump out of bed yelling.  He takes a moment to let his heart rate slow down and take stock.  Hospital.  Sam Wilson sitting in a chair next to his bed, reading.  Pain pretty much everywhere, especially his face.</p>
<p>“On your left,” Steve whispers, to let Sam know that he’s conscious.  Sam’s only reaction is to look up with a quiet, satisfied smile.</p>
<p>The hospital room is full of light.  So it’s daytime, but Steve has no idea what day.  He also doesn’t know the music that is playing softly.  That’s nothing new, of course; Steve doesn’t know any modern music.  Like all music in the future, it’s wrong.  But for modern music, this isn’t bad, and somehow it fits Sam.</p>
<p>Steve doesn’t say anything more.  He’s very glad Sam doesn’t try to talk to him.</p>
<p>It’s a good illustration of why Steve is so drawn to Sam.  Sam has been at Steve’s side, without question, since Steve and Natasha showed up at his door with half the world looking to kill or capture them.  Sam was Steve’s partner in taking out the helicarriers.  And now Sam is here.  He’s been sitting with Steve, even while Steve’s been unconscious, because Sam knows Steve is gonna need someone.  And Sam makes absolutely no demands.  He intuitively knows what Steve needs, and he unselfishly gives it.</p>
<p>He also gives Steve a fair amount of shit.  But Steve likes that about him, too.</p>
<p>Steve finds the edges of his lips turning up slightly.  Sam is a close friend, which is a very rare commodity in Steve Rogers’ life.  Steve hasn’t had a friend like Sam since…</p>
<p>The dam bursts and everything comes screaming toward him, massive and inescapable.  It engulfs him and he’s carried helplessly along with the torrent, thrown against rocks and pummeled by huge debris.</p>
<p>
  <em> Bucky. </em>
</p>
<p>Steve finds himself sitting bolt upright in his hospital bed.  It hurts like hell, because Steve has a lot of serious injuries.</p>
<p>Bucky is alive and in the hands of Hydra.  He has been for all this time.  Steve still can’t wrap his mind around it.  From the moment he recognized Bucky on the bridge, when that damn muzzle or whatever the hell it was fell off, Steve’s been half dazed.  After that, he had simply allowed the STRIKE team to take him into custody, unable to even focus on what was happening, let alone care. </p>
<p>He’s grateful to Maria Hill and her team for getting them out of SHIELD custody, because he certainly wasn’t in any shape to do it.  Steve’s legs had been so completely knocked out from under him by seeing Bucky that it had barely registered when Nick Fury became the second supposedly-dead person to show up talking and breathing inside of an hour. </p>
<p>Steve supposes it’s probably a good thing that Fury’s alive, but it doesn’t hold a candle to seeing Bucky.</p>
<p>Bucky is alive.</p>
<p>And he’s disobeyed Hydra now.  He didn’t kill Steve.  Not only that, Steve knows Bucky must have pulled him out of the Potomac.  Which means Bucky is in grave danger.  If he goes back to Hydra, if they punish him because of Steve…  Steve knows what Hydra is capable of.  What it must have taken to turn Bucky into The Winter Soldier.</p>
<p>He tries to get out of bed.</p>
<p>Sam’s instantly at his side, arm on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back into the hospital bed.</p>
<p>“Uh-uh,” Sam says softly.  “Not yet.”</p>
<p>“Sam, he’s out there.  He’s all alone, and if they catch him—"</p>
<p>“I know.  And we will deal with that.  But not yet.”</p>
<p>“I can’t leave him.”</p>
<p>Steve shudders and his stomach gives a sickening roll even as he hears himself say it.  Because he knows now that he <em> did </em> leave Bucky.  Bucky, who pulled Steve back from the brink of death so many times they lost count, and who saved his life more times than that during the war.  Bucky, who gave Steve a <em> reason </em> to live.</p>
<p>And Steve just left him lying at the bottom of a frozen abyss.   </p>
<p>Steve left Bucky for dead.</p>
<p>Bucky must have been horrifically injured.  That arm.  And Steve just abandoned him, to be captured and tortured and God knows what all else until the best guy Steve has ever known was so beat down they were able to turn him into what he is now.  The pain of that realization is so excruciating Steve actually cries out in agony as he covers his face.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“I’ll get the nurse, get you some pain meds.”</p>
<p>“No.  I’m all right.”</p>
<p>“Steve, do you know how many broken—”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Steve says, in <em> that </em>voice.  And that hurts, too.  The echoes of all the times he said those same words in that same tone to Bucky.  A lifetime ago.  In another world.</p>
<p>Bucky would have chewed him out.  Called him a dumbass and shoved him back into the pillows.  Instead, Sam asks, “What do you need?”</p>
<p>“I need to find him,” Steve answers in a broken voice.</p>
<p>“I know, Cap.  Lay your busted ass down.  Rest.  And then we’ll talk about it.”</p>
<p>Steve lays his busted ass down.  Partly because everything’s suddenly gone gray and fuzzy, with little pinpoint sparkles.  Not gonna get far like that.  And he really does have a lot of injuries, even for him.  Steve can hardly believe how strong Bucky is.  How fast and agile.  Not to mention that he stabbed Steve in the shoulder and shot him.  Twice.  If he’s going to go after Bucky, first he’ll need to recover from this meeting.</p>
<p>It’s a long, quiet afternoon.  Sam reads while Steve engages in Captain America’s greatest superpower: brooding.</p>
<p>Bucky.  Here.  Now.  The same age.  The very idea gives Steve vertigo.  Because no matter what he says, no matter how hard he tries, Steve hates it here.  Or he hates it now, he supposes he should say.</p>
<p>The people who care about him know about his grief.  They know that each and every person he knew is dead, or very old.  Every one.  They try to help.  But they don’t understand the crushing loneliness and guilt of being the only one young and alive.  They also keep talking about seventy years, as though it’s been that long.  But it hasn’t.  It’s been three years.  Not seventy.  Three.  He wasn’t conscious in the ice.  But they forget that.</p>
<p>They know that the world Steve lived in is dead, too.  He barely recognizes this one.  They try to help him figure it out, but they can’t understand the constant disorientation.  Not really. </p>
<p>Every single thing is wrong.  It starts with the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes: a clock with harsh, glowing numbers instead of a face.  It goes from there.  The light in the bathroom is too sharp.  Somehow, the future has even messed up the color of light.  The fixtures are weirdly-shaped, and it’s hard to figure out how they work.  Everything is made of plastic in the future.  Toothpaste tastes wrong, and so does water.  His underwear is the wrong fabric and style.  The clothes are made wrong and cut wrong and what the heck happened to quality?</p>
<p>And all that is before he even steps out of his bedroom.  He tries to use the word “different” rather than “wrong.”  Sam tells him that will help.  But dangit, everything <em> is </em> wrong!</p>
<p>Don’t get him started on future food.  Son, just don’t.  It all tastes wrong, even when you can get real food instead of the weird processed stuff people eat now.</p>
<p>The people are wrong, too.  Everyone talks wrong, wears their clothes too tight and dresses too informally.  No one ever wears a damn hat.  There is no honor or shame in this future, and people speak to one another as though they hate each other pretty much all the time.</p>
<p>New York is wrong.  He can’t find his way around Brooklyn anymore and even the streets and buildings that are still where he left them are changed beyond recognition.  The air smells wrong.  The cars sound wrong.</p>
<p>And every single conversation involves something he doesn’t know, or relate to, or some past event he didn’t know about or can’t put into context.  Every. Single. One.</p>
<p>There is no point telling anyone.  There’s no point trying to explain that, for him, jokes about his being out of time are the darkest sort of black humor.  It’s not a sort of humor the real Steve Rogers appreciated.  He still doesn’t.  Not really.  But he uses it himself because black humor feels angry.</p>
<p>And Steve Rogers is deeply, deeply angry.</p>
<p>He shrugs and adjusts his position in the bed.  None of this is ever going away.  Nothing to do but walk it off.</p>
<p>No one could understand all of that, not even Sam.</p>
<p>But Bucky might.</p>
<p>Steve has no idea how Bucky is alive, and only a few years older than the last time they saw each other.  Maybe Bucky had the same sort of experience Steve did.  Maybe Bucky froze at the bottom of that crevasse in the Alps and he, too, woke up to a world that has become all but unrecognizable overnight. </p>
<p>Not that Steve would wish this on his best friend, of course.  He wouldn’t wish this on anyone.  Maybe Zola or the Red Skull.  On a bad day, the guy who designed his first uniform for the war bond tour.  But never, ever Bucky.</p>
<p>
  <em> Bucky. </em>
</p>
<p>Bucky’s alive.  Steve can talk to Bucky.  Hug him.  Steve can tell Bucky all the things he’s turned to say to him since the minute he fell from the train, only to find he’s not there.  Three years is not long enough to break the habit of a lifetime.  And he feels the loss all over again every time he does it.</p>
<p>Steve can feel himself beginning to vibrate with purpose.  Usually, by the time he feels this, he’s already running toward whatever his purpose is.  Not today, with all the wounds and broken bones healing so fast he can feel his tissues knitting together.  It hurts like crazy, healing this fast.  He’s never mentioned that to anyone.  Never seemed to be any point.</p>
<p>Steve looks down at his right shoulder, pulling the edge of his hospital gown away from the bandage there.  He touches the bandage with his finger, then puts a little pressure on the spot where Bucky’s knife went in.  It hurts.  The bandage is real, and so is the pain.  Which means Bucky is real.  Bucky is alive.  Steve pushes on the stab wound again.</p>
<p>He needs to think.  Which isn’t easy with the massive concussion he is sure he has.  Steve thinks about the power behind all of The Winter Soldier’s blows to his head.  How he hit Steve until his metal arm began to fatigue.  How many times has Bucky told Steve he has a thick skull?  Steve adds that to the list of things he wants to tell Bucky, to see him laugh.</p>
<p>It’s a long list.</p>
<p>Steve vividly remembers the look in The Winter Soldier’s eyes when Steve said “I’m with you to the end of the line.”  The metal arm had stopped hitting him (<em> which, by the way, Buck - ouch </em>).  It hadn’t been stilled by the fatigue.  The Winter Soldier’s arm had been stilled by the words.  By Bucky.</p>
<p>Steve is absolutely certain that The Winter Soldier intentionally refrained from killing him on the helicarrier and then rescued him from the river.  That means that he was somehow Bucky, at least a little bit.  Steve doesn’t fool himself.  He saw The Winter Soldier’s eyes.  That wasn’t Bucky.  But Bucky was in there.  And Bucky at least influenced The Winter Soldier’s actions.</p>
<p>Steve knows that Bucky didn’t return to Hydra after pulling him from the river.  Aside from breaking his programming, he might not have had anywhere to go, since the Avengers and loyal SHIELD agents have dealt Hydra a terrible - perhaps mortal - blow.  So where would Bucky go?  For that matter, where has Bucky been?</p>
<p>Steve will figure that out.  There is no question.  Because Bucky’s out there.  Steve will do anything to find and rescue his best friend.</p>
<p>
  <em> Bucky. </em>
</p>
<p>It will be a long time before Steve understands that this moment is his first step back into the light.  When he does, a tremor will run down his spine and he’ll simply nod.  Because of course it’s Bucky who gives Steve the first hope he’s felt since he came out of the ice and rescues him from the hell he’s living in.</p>
<p>Of course it is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Soldat's target uses trigger words that cause a malfunction.  Trigger words like <strong>Bucky</strong>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And can I just say, Lenne has been the most wonderful co-collaborator I could have asked for?  I mean, I don't have to tell you her art is astoundingly beautiful.  You should also know that she, herself, is beautiful too.  :)<br/>THANK YOU, LENNE!!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Heaven and Earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>See end of chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 2:  HEAVEN AND EARTH</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking out of the cockpit, Steve sees nothing but his reflection in the dim light from the gauges and readouts.  His own face is the absolute last thing he wants to see, but it’s dark and they’re over the ocean.  The Quinjet is on autopilot and will be for another hour, which means there’s nothing to do right this moment but think.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not a safe activity for Steve Rogers.  Steve’s head is a very bad neighborhood.  Captain America or not, he gets his ass kicked whenever he wanders around in there alone.  And Bucky’s not here anymore to pull him out of dark alleys.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s very, very good to be moving, finally following a solid lead for the first time since learning that Bucky is alive and out there somewhere.  Steve looks back at Sam, sensibly asleep strapped into his seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank God for Sam.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Without Sam, Steve would simply have jumped into the first Quinjet he could find after the battle of the Triskelion and headed for Russia.  With absolutely no idea where or how to search, just a voracious need to get to Bucky and a will of iron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which even Steve now admits would have exceeded his usual levels of reckless fuckery.  Not only does Russia have six point six million square miles of land to search, and over a hundred and forty million people to question, but the intel they’ve gathered shows that the Soviets haven’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky since at least the eighties.  There’s no reason to believe Bucky’s being held in Russia anymore.  Given how pervasive Hydra has turned out to be, Bucky could be in the back room of a Wal-Mart in suburban Milwaukee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s killing Steve.  Now that he knows Bucky is alive and in trouble, his mind runs an endless loop of what might be happening to him.  How Bucky might be suffering at Hydra’s hands, or wandering somewhere, destitute, starving and alone.  The need to find him and bring him home burns in Steve’s chest every minute, like the time he let Natasha convince him to try that curry she likes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam finally had to literally tackle Steve, hold him down, and yell into his face to get him to see reason.  Of course, Sam can’t keep Steve pinned unless Steve allows it, but there’s no way he would hurt Sam.  Anyway, Sam was fully and unreservedly done with Steve by that time, and he had a point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck you gonna do, Rogers, strap on your shield and beat up every person on the planet until one of ‘em gives Barnes up?  You know that’s over seven billion people, right?  Gonna take you a while.  Probably longer than it would take to get some fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>intel</span>
  </em>
  <span> and do this shit right.  Because what are you gonna do if you don’t find him?  Go on to the next planet and beat alla </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve had no choice but to listen.  Although he would do it in a heartbeat if it had a chance in hell of success, he knows they can’t conduct this search physically.  He’s had to be satisfied with what he and Sam can slowly, painstakingly develop from the work being done by Nick Fury to find what’s left of Hydra.  And they’ve had to do it secretly, since what’s left of SHIELD is one of the many organizations looking for Bucky, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last three months have taken a toll on Steve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only respite he’s had from the constant, gnawing worry and driving compulsion to find Bucky has been Avengers missions.  Although Hydra’s largely done for, there are still bad guys to fight and crises to handle.  Sometimes, Steve’s even been able to occupy his mind entirely while leading the Avengers in fights against the usual terrorists, mad scientists, and would-be supervillains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lab testing a new hair-loss drug on rabbits ended up creating very nervous, very hairy creatures that reproduced at an appalling rate.  Which wouldn’t have been an Avengers-level problem, except these bunnies had a taste for blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The U.S. Navy lost two nukes.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Two</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A team of not-quite geniuses working for A.I.M. got their hands on some old Stark weapons tech and had to be rescued from their own invention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The city of Wichita, Kansas disappeared off the map for thirty-six hours.  (Tony had to be talked into helping with that one.  At first he only shrugged and said, “Dude, why?  It’s Wichita.”)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was even one kinda sad alien invasion.  Fortunately, it was nothing like the Battle of New York.  (Loki’s been very good lately, being dead and all.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, it’s been rough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sitting in the pilot’s seat of the Quinjet, staring blindly out at the few stars he can see over the glow of his instruments, Steve’s mind goes to Bucky.  It always does when it’s not occupied by something that needs his immediate attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s always been something different about the way Steve feels about Bucky.  Of course there has.  Steve didn’t have many friends before they met, and Steve quickly realized he’d never had a friend like Bucky.  He used to think that his friendship with Bucky was what it must be like to have a brother.  But Bucky has siblings, and Steve spent more time in their home than his own growing up.  He learned the difference.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the time Steve was six, he was raised by Bucky’s parents and his own Mom pretty much equally.  He’d been too young to question it at the time and, as he grew up, that just became how it had always been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers talking quietly with Bucky’s mom about it, over the long, somber afternoons he spent with her after Bucky’s dad died.  It was just the year after Steve’s own mother had died of tuberculosis, and Steve needed the reassurance of Winnifred Barnes’s presence just as much as she needed his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I never really thanked you for everything you’ve done for me.  And not just for me.  For my mom, too.  It was real hard for her, tryin’ to keep us goin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Winnifred Barnes lifted an arm to pat the back of Steve’s tiny hand, her gentle smile equal parts sadness and fondness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Steve.  George and I always knew how many hours she worked.  Times are hard.  Neither one of us ever blamed Sarah for that; she was just trying to survive, like most people.  Besides, I know perfectly well how fortunate we are that George had a good job.  We’ve had food on the table and heat in the winter… even a car, and nobody has a car these days.  George and I both liked the idea that we could help you and your mom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flipped a hand nonchalantly, with a playful grin that Bucky had inherited.  “Anyway, we already had four kids.  One more didn’t make that much difference.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiled politely and shoved his ever-present bangs out of his eyes.  He took a drink of the lemonade she’d offered him, and they enjoyed a comfortable moment, neither feeling the need to talk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he didn’t know – because George and Winnifred Barnes never said it out loud, even to each other – was that they had also wanted to make sure Steve got enough to eat.  The ridiculous juxtaposition of his outsize personality and air of righteous authority in such a small and fragile body was part of his charm.  But Steve’s inner fire and indomitable will weren’t going to keep him alive without some protein once in a while.  In those desperate times, with only what income Sarah’s nursing job brought in, the Barneses secretly doubted that much meat made its way onto the Rogers table.  If they could have found a way to feed Sarah without insulting her, they would’ve done it.  But at least they could feed Steve.  Not that he ever seemed to get any hardier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She set her glass daintily on a hand-crocheted coaster and gazed at him with eyes the exact same color as Bucky’s.  “You know, Steve, you’ve always been welcome in our family because we’ve always loved you like one of our own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve swallowed wrong and had to cough a little to clear his throat.  “That’s kind, ma’am.  Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s impossible not to love you, Steve.  You’re a delight to have around, always have been.  You’re obedient, always eager to help, and you get along with the girls.  You’re by far the most polite friend Bucky’s ever had.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That got a genuine smile from Steve, one of the few Winnifred had seen on his face since Sarah had died.  He even laughed a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again Winnifred held back some things she could have said.  She didn’t think Steve would want to hear that she and George thought that Steve being sick brought out a caring, generous side of their son that they wanted to encourage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If nothing else,” she said with a wry smile, “We always hoped spending so much time with a good kid like you would rub off on Bucky.  He’s always had a worrying wild streak.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said solemnly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If they’d only known.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve didn’t say it to Bucky’s mom that day, of course, but he knows he never curbed even one of Bucky’s lamebrained impulses.  Exactly the opposite, in fact.  It was Bucky who tried to keep Steve from his own.  (Mostly because Steve’s lamebrained impulses got Bucky into fights almost as often as they did Steve.)  Not only that, but Bucky could talk anyone into anything, and since he and Steve were together pretty much constantly, that meant Bucky’s cockamamie ideas usually ended up getting Steve in trouble, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Steve and Bucky became teenagers, they had been best friends for over half their lives.  They knew everything about each other, including the private stuff.  Bucky discovered girls and jacking off before Steve, and naturally gave Steve the scoop.  As soon as he did, it was like he’d lit a fire inside Steve, and Steve caught up quick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, Steve wasn’t a good influence on Bucky.  Bucky was a terrible influence on Steve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles into the darkness of the cockpit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It turns out there actually is a Hydra small-arms manufacturing facility in the Shaanxi Province of China.  But Bucky’s not there.  He never has been.  Steve and Sam wipe out the facility after being in Xi’an only twelve hours.  On the way back to D.C., Sam sits with Steve in the cockpit, frowning with unconcealed concern.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was… energetic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve cocks a mocking eyebrow.  “There’s blankets if you need a nap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t smile.  “Just makin’ an observation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Steve was kind of hoping Sam had been too busy to notice.  He doesn’t say anything.  There’s still a slim chance Sam’s talking about something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fought with you a few times now, Cap.  Prolly could give your ‘minimum force necessary’ speech myself by now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Sam echoes.  “Back there?  That was a few more bodies than you usually leave.  Anything you wanna talk about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs.  “It was just the two of us.  I was covering you, making sure once they were down, they didn’t get back up to make trouble for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam lets that hang in the air.  He wears no expression as he continues to study Steve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s those files, Sam,” Steve eventually says, voice low and charged with emotion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The ones Fury found in Germany?  I saw ‘em.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They did those things.  To Bucky.  Might still be doing ‘em.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam just nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve blows out a short huff of frustration at Sam’s obvious ploy to keep him talking.  “You know what… happened to Bucky in Krausberg.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Sam nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t talk about it, what they did to him in that lab.  Partly because he didn’t know.  He knew that they were experimenting on him.  He said they shot him full of stuff.  But that was all he would say.  Other than that, all I could get out of him were lame jokes.  Or he would just… say nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the silence drags on and Steve appears to be losing himself in memories, Sam grunts a low, “Uh-huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes, he’d get this look.  Panicked and miserable.  Like he was a million miles away, lookin’ down the barrel of a machine gun.  Except he never got that look during a real fight.  Bullets, mortars, that stuff just made him mad and cocky.  But when he got that look… wherever he went in his mind, it was someplace a hell of a lot scarier than whatever battle we were in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve took a deep breath.  His gaze was unfocused as he re-lived that year he and Bucky had crisscrossed Europe with the Howling Commandos, rooting out and destroying Hydra bases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he was so hungry,” Steve went on.  “All the time.  That was no surprise, it wasn’t like the Germans were feeding their POWs four-course meals.  I did what I could to get him food.  Everyone wanted to give Captain America extras, especially after we got back to Azzano, so it was easy at first.  He started to bulk up, and I thought it was just that he was finally getting enough to eat.  But he needed more than I could pretend I was eating by myself.  For a while, he needed more even than I did.  I did some stuff I’m not proud of, trying to get him enough to eat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he always seemed like he had a fever.  He was so hot all the time.  That wasn’t surprising, either, except that it never went away.  He had this blue coat he wore, all the damn time.  It wasn’t warm enough for the weather, but he wouldn’t take a warmer one.  Said it looked too good on him to give it up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks over at Sam, whose eyes are still solidly pinned on him.  When he speaks again, his voice is almost timid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bucky didn’t know what was happening to him, Sam.  How could he?  But </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> should have.  Of all the people in the world, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> should have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t tell you everything.  And the things you knew had a perfectly reasonable explanation.  You said so yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve lets that go, not considering for a moment accepting less than full responsibility for what Bucky has endured.  His voice goes even quieter, which Sam knows means he’s finally getting to what’s really bothering him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should’ve known he’d been given some version of the same serum I got.  Because the same things were happening to him, just not as fast.  I guess because he didn’t have the Vita-rays.  And, Sam, if I’d have realized, if I’d have seen what was right in front of my face, then I would’ve known.  I would’ve known he might have survived that fall, and I would’ve gone back.  I wouldn’t have left until I found him.  Hydra never would’ve gotten their hands on him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna know all the things wrong with that theory?”  Sam asks, cocking an eyebrow.  “I could start with the ones that spring immediately to my mind without even thinking about it, and go from there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I know.  If I’d gone after Bucky, I wouldn’t have been there to stop the Valkyrie.  And no one can say I woulda found him at all, let alone before the Russians did.  Plus, if I hadn’t gone into the ice, I wouldn’t be here to save him now…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Among other things.  It’s all hindsight, Steve.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a few minutes, they sit together, not talking.  Sam lets Steve process what he said.  When Steve does speak again, Sam’s not surprised to learn what else is bothering him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never fought beside Bucky before Krausberg.  The other guys who became the Howling Commandos had, though, and they all said Buck was a hell of a soldier already.  Best marksman any of them had ever seen.  They didn’t see a change in him, because we had an entirely different mission after Azzano.  They weren’t just holding the line anymore, doing what some ninety-day-wonder ordered.  We used different skills going after Hydra.  Entirely different way of fighting.  So none of us knew Bucky was different, and he sure as hell didn’t say anything.  We just knew he was fast and strong.  Never missed.  Could see and hear things.  The Howlies used to comment on that part, but I never caught on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The thing is,” Steve goes on, not wanting to hear Sam justifying his unforgivable blindness.  “Those things he could do, that he shouldn’t have been able to do.  He used those skills to take out a lot of Nazis.  He killed more Hydra agents than any of the rest of us, even me.  He was like an avenging angel, eliminating every bad guy he could.  That’s what he did with what Zola made him into, when he was Bucky Barnes.  Do you see what I’m saying, Sam?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks over to make sure Sam’s listening.  “That other stuff?  The things in those files?  That wasn’t Bucky.  That was The Winter Soldier.  That was something Hydra made.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve blue eyes blaze into Sam’s as he desperately tries to make him understand.  “That wasn’t Buck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky turns out not to be in Crete or Tunis.  By the time Steve and Sam leave, neither is Hydra.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the fact that Steve and Sam were there attracts attention.  The rumblings get back to Nick Fury and, after Tunis, Steve finds himself in D.C., standing before an angry, brittle Maria Hill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Avengers missions not keeping you busy enough, Captain?”  She asks.  There is no warmth in her voice, and the muscles in her crossed arms are tense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We got a tip.  It was time-sensitive, and we figured you have enough on your plate, trying to comb through the wreckage of SHIELD.  We’re all on the same side here.  I was just trying to help clean up the rest of Hydra.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hill says nothing.  She doesn’t move a muscle, unless it’s maybe to make the pupils of her eyes a little smaller.  Which, Steve thinks, is a seriously impressive skill.  It certainly makes her look even more skeptical of his story.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would’ve thought you’d appreciate the assist,” Steve tries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We do.  Thank you.  Now talk to me about The Winter Soldier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?  What about him?  Has there been a sighting?  Where is he—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain, you’ve seen the files we have on The Winter Soldier’s crimes.  Do you understand how many countries, and how many agencies within those countries, are looking for him?  And that’s just the legitimate entities.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m well aware of that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you also know that, if you find him, your only legal option is to turn him over to the proper authorities.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So if you happen to catch wind of him, Captain, I am confident that your first call will be to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am,” Steve responds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is not the same as agreeing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s been looking for six months.  He will search for as long as it takes.  As for what he’ll do when he finds Bucky… well, he’ll figure that out when he gets there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ll figure it out together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only a month later that the Avengers learn the location of Loki’s scepter.  Steve has no choice but to go with the rest of the team to Sokovia to recapture it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While they’re gone, Sam continues the search for Bucky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although the team successfully recovers the scepter, Steve’s not celebrating.  Not really.  Every time he’s spoken to Sam over the weeks it’s taken to recover the scepter has felt like a condemnation.  Not from Sam.  Never Sam.  From Steve himself.  Here he is, abandoning Bucky once again to go chasing after some trinket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The files Fury’s been recovering, and the eyewitness accounts he’s gathering, are far worse than anything Steve could have imagined.  It’s clear Bucky doesn’t scar any more than Steve does, because if he did, there wouldn’t be one inch of clear skin left on him.  Everything these days reminds Steve of some torture he’s read about Bucky enduring.  Everyday objects are starting to resemble the monstrous implements in the pictures.  He’s stopped being able to go onto the floor of Avengers Tower where Banner’s lab is.  There’s a clenching in his chest and an appalled nausea that now begin even before Steve opens one of those files.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Tony Stark, the gift that keeps on giving, brings his Ultron project to fruition.  Steve loses two more months while the Avengers are hard pressed to save the world (again), and Sam continues the search on his own (again).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Captain America is standing at the top of a burning oil refinery in Paraguay, holding a screaming man over the lake of fire below.  It’s not what he wants – God knows it’s not – but this time… this time he’d really thought he’d found Bucky.  And the place is going to explode any minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve has no time for justice.  Just truth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not just because of the fires.  The Israeli Mossad, Interpol, and the Russian GRU are all on their way.  Apparently, they all think Bucky is here, too, and it’s an even bet whether the refinery explodes before an international showdown does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me!  Where is he?”  Steve’s eyes feel like they’re bulging out of his head as he wills the sweating, whimpering man to speak between screams.  “Where is The Winter Soldier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No se!  No se, lo juro por Dios!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Swear to whoever you like, just tell me where he is!”  Steve lowers the man and makes as if to drop him, shaking him to ensure that he feels the arm Steve’s already broken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man dissolves into sobs and stops trying to answer Steve.  Instead, he begins muttering prayers between shuddering breaths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky isn’t here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Bucky was here, this man would know that, and he would know where.  With what Steve’s done to the man, he would have told him.  Steve pulls the man back over the railing and sets him down hard on the metal grating of the little landing at the top of the refinery’s flare stack.  He doesn’t help the man down the spiral stairway that rings it.  He forgets the man completely as soon as he drops him to the landing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes watering from the thick, pungent smoke (or at least so it would seem to anyone who doesn’t know him) Captain America jumps to the top of the railing and dives toward the roof of the adjacent building.  The man sees him tuck and roll, then disappear into the black smoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next lead takes them to Kuala Lumpur.  This time, the Chinese MSS finds the Hydra base first.  Steve and Sam are not gentle as they ensure that the MSS did not find The Winter Soldier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s going to come back at them.  Captain America isn’t exactly hard to recognize.  This particular operation was sanctioned by Nick Fury, but still.  It’s not like SHIELD has a lot of friends in the American diplomatic community – or any other community – right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the Quinjet, the co-pilot hands Steve a flash drive.  “Director Fury asked us to get this to you,” he explains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a long time, Steve merely looks at it.  He notes the blood under his fingernails as he stares at the thin, black rectangle in his hand.  Then he lets his eyes focus on his suit.  It’s bloody, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of the blood is his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam is in one of the forward seats, probably attempting to fall asleep.  He’d tried to talk to Steve after their extraction, but Steve had rebuffed him with a bravado that seemed ridiculously fake, even to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t need Sam to tell him what he’s becoming.  He knows.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s painfully aware that he’s been ruthless in interrogating Hydra operatives he thinks might have information about Bucky.  Knows he’s leaving bodies behind.  Just like he knows what’s on the flash drive in his hand. More information that will tear away another little piece of his soul.  Further break his heart, which already aches with guilt and sorrow for the man Bucky was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind flashes a picture of Bucky, cocky and handsome in his new uniform, grinning at him at the Stark Expo as though he wasn’t going to be fed into the bloody maw of the war the next morning.  Steve feels the effect of that smile even as he remembers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heaving a sigh from the depths of his being, Steve sits up and takes a tablet from the pouch in the seat next to him.  He taps it to life and, as though it is infinitely heavy, slowly lifts the flash drive, hand shaking a little as he plugs it into the side of the tablet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is only one file.  Steve hasn’t been able to determine which cuts more deeply: intel about what’s been done to Bucky, or what he’s been made to do.  This file is about The Winter Soldier’s activities in Bosnia from 1992 to 1994.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The contents of the file first make Steve curl his hands into fists so tight they hurt.  Then they make him vomit.  By the time he finishes reading the file, he is limp, exhausted by the hurricane of emotions battering him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shoves the tablet back into its pouch and crushes the flash drive to sharp plastic shards in his hand, watching blood drip from where they stab into his fingers.  He is shaking with fury as a sob is torn from his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cries himself to sleep, feeling like he’s bleeding to death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It seems like nothing could be more dangerous than spending the night outdoors this high in the Carpathian Mountains without even a fire.  But there is one thing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hydra.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Howling Commandos have only bothered with the one tent, because the only warmth out here is each other.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Howlies have been together for a year now, and this is nowhere near their first freezing cold night together.  They have a system, and they’re so used to it by now that they just automatically take their places without much fuss.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They hadn’t come to their current system without a great deal of bitching and cussing.  There were several aborted attempts to gut out the cold.  Lots of outraged shouts when elbows met bellies, or </span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span> worse </span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span> knees met groins.  Several half-serious accusations of groping.  But there were a few inescapable facts that made this the only workable way for them to sleep in the otherwise-lethal cold. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>First, Cap gave off more body heat than any man had a right to.  And the Sarge was pretty near as warm.  Everybody wanted to sleep next to one of them.  But the second fact was, a man only has two sides.  The team had needed to figure it out, and they had, based on some other inescapable facts. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dugan was almost as big as Rogers and Barnes, if not such a furnace, and he didn’t get cold easy.  So Dugan was in the middle.  Morita and Dernier were the smallest, so they got to sleep between Dugan and Cap or the Sarge.  That left Falsworth and Jones on the outside.  But they did okay, since they were each next to an especially warm soldier.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody liked it, but nobody died of hypothermia, either.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve is lying between Dernier and Jones, waiting for Dernier to start his nightly French monologue in his sleep.  Jones sleeps like an anesthetized corpse, so Steve doesn’t have it as bad as Bucky, who’s between Jim “beans are good for you” Morita and Falsworth, who regularly wakes up kicking and swinging.  They all have to listen to Dugan’s profoundly enthusiastic snoring.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not tonight, though.  Tonight everyone is still.  So still that Steve sits up to check on them. He looks at each man and finds, to his horror, that each is cold and pale, eyes staring and bloodshot, with a thin, puckered red line across his throat.  Only Bucky is alive, sitting up facing him with a blank stare and a bloody garotte stretched tightly between one metal hand and one flesh hand.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve screams and thrashes himself awake in his seat, to find Sam standing next to </span>
  <span>him in the dim cabin of the Quinjet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam knows better than to touch him.  He just nods and says softly, “You’re okay, Cap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Yeah,” Steve agrees, pulling his fingers through his sweat-damp hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he reports to the Avengers’ new compound upstate, Steve’s not surprised to find Nick Fury waiting for him.  He knows what’s coming, and he can’t blame Fury, really.  Not when Fury still bears the scars of the bullets The Winter Soldier pumped into him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve flashes on that night.  The shock of finding Fury, beaten and bloody, in his apartment.  Seeing him take two shots to the chest.  Learning, seconds later, that the cute girl down the hall was yet another secret agent wearing a false identity.  Tearing through the building next door to face the man who had shot Fury: a masked, camouflaged wraith with the strength to catch the shield one-handed.  The uncomfortable anxiety when the man’s return throw knocked him several feet backward.  The stark fear when the man disappeared into thin air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of that blinks through Steve’s mind in the three strides it takes to cross the antiseptic-seeming lobby of the Compound to where Fury stands, glaring at him.  They say very little as Steve’s escorted – there’s no other word for it – to Fury’s office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not a good meeting.  Fury knows far too much about Steve’s search for Bucky over the past year and a half.  He knows about Saudi Arabia and Nigeria.  He has damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>video</span>
  </em>
  <span> from Egypt.  He hints at knowing more, but Steve’s not about to mention Norway or Japan unless Fury specifically mentions them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna tell me what you think you’re doing?”  Fury asks, leaning back in his desk chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like you know everything I’ve been doing.  And it hasn’t interfered with anything the Avengers needed me for, not that I have to justify myself to you anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> notice that I still have one eye left?  And two ears?  Not to mention the brain I use for more than just keeping them apart.  Don’t fuck with me, Rogers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Steve says is, “No, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a thick silence that goes on long enough that Fury finally appears to accept that Steve’s not going to say anything more.  All Fury can do is lay it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barnes is a weapon.  Nothing more.  Whoever your friend was when the Russians got a hold of him, the Nazis and Hydra have long since burned that out of him.  You need to understand that.  Because it’s not gonna go well for you if you try to stand between the entire world and him.  He needs to answer for his crimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve remains silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I like you, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> particularly like most of the bastards looking for him,” Fury says, sitting up and leaning forward toward where Steve stands at parade rest before his desk.  “I know you think this is personal for me, and I suppose it is, up to a point.  I mean, he did shoot me.  But Cap, lots of people have shot me.  That’s not why you’re standing here right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why am I standing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because he’s just one guy.  One guy the whole world wants to see taken down.  And he’s not even the guy you’re trying to save.  That guy’s dead, Cap.  That’s the fact.  I’m trying to keep you from destroying yourself for a guy who died a long time ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve inhales deeply, taking his time letting his breath back out.  When he speaks, his voice is low and his words very carefully enunciated.  There is barely any inflection.  “You’ve read the files, Director.  You know the things they did to him.  I saw things in those files that I could barely read about.  Bucky lived them.  He might still be living them.  Some of the tortures go on for days, weeks on end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I read every file.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you read about the ‘procedures’.  I’ll never get some of that stuff out of my head.  Not just the twisted stuff their sick minds came up with, but the way they describe it.  How cold and clinical it is, talking about how he screamed until his throat bled.  How disappointed they were that they had to stop so he wouldn’t drown in his own blood.  They did unspeakable things to him just because they could.  Because he didn’t die the way anyone else would.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re making my point, Captain.  There’s no way any part of who he used to be survived that.  You don’t want to see what something like that made him into.  You don’t want to know what kind of man does the things he’s done.  That last file.  The things The Winter Soldier did in that bazaar in Istanbul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I owe Bucky Barnes my life, many times over,” Steve says, even quieter than before.  He doesn’t know what kind of expression he’s wearing, but he thinks he actually sees Nick Fury back away from him, just a bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve, in turn, takes a step toward Fury’s desk.  “Maybe that part’s the easiest for you to understand.  There’s so much more to him than that, but I just don’t have the words.  I’ll never be able to explain what he is to me.  But it doesn’t matter whether you understand.  What matters is, he’s the best person I’ve ever known, and everything he’s been through, everything he’s done, is my fault.  So </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen to </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> point.  I don’t care who he is now.  I don’t care what he’s done.  Do you hear me?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I. Don’t. Care.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  I will never stop looking for him.  And I will never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> give up on him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two men spend long moments, eyes locked, silently acknowledging the line Steve’s just drawn in the sand.  Then Steve nods, once, and turns to walk calmly across the shiny tile floor of Fury’s office and out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He goes to the quarters assigned to him.  Although alcohol really doesn’t have much effect on him, he sees that Tony Stark’s provided him with a fully-stocked bar anyway.  Good.  This seems like a moment that requires whiskey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve pours himself a drink and takes it to the window, where he stands looking out at the grounds of the Compound.  He thinks about what he said to Fury, and wonders whether he’s just cut himself off from any further help from that direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t stop.  He won’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he takes a drink of the caramel-colored liquid in his glass, enjoying the warmth spreading through his chest, he plays back the things he said to Fury.  He thinks about the atrocities The Winter Soldier has committed.  The things he, himself, has done in trying to find Bucky.  And it hits him.  He told Fury the truth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the countries on the planet want to find Bucky.  A whole lot of bad guys, too.  But only Steve wants to save him.  The rest</span>
  <span> want to either kill him, punish him, or re-enslave him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is not going to happen.  Steve will not allow that to happen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter what The Winter Soldier has done, or what Steve has done to find him.  No matter what Steve might still have to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He isn’t surprised when Sam lets himself into Steve’s apartment.  He doesn’t even turn around.  He just hears Sam pour himself a drink and feels Sam’s shoulder against his when he comes to stand next to Steve at the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fury?” Sam asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s concerned that I might be trying to keep Bucky from facing what Fury calls justice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a short silence, Sam turns his head to take Steve in for a moment.  “What are you concerned about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugs.  “I know what I </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>be concerned about.  What I did to the guy in Paraguay.  Those scientists in Japan.  That Nigerian that I...  A few others.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I can’t afford to be concerned about that.  Not when Bucky’s out there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Sam says nothing further, a vulnerable note creeps into Steve’s voice as he asks, “So… how concerned are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam thinks awhile before he answers.  “Well, I noticed.  Those things weren’t like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe they were.  Maybe that’s who Hydra made </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, by doin’ what they did to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve actually grins a little at that.  He takes another drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think this is changing me?”  Steve asks.  He’s too deep in thought to realize how small and scared his voice sounds in this moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Cap, and that’s the truth.  I been listenin’ to you talk about him.  Man means that much to me, and I find out someone put him through what’s in those files... I know I’d be willin’ to go pretty far to get him out.  So for now, I’m tellin’ myself this is just what you would always have done for him.  But I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Appreciate your honesty, Sam.  You know, Fury says he’s dead.  Says the Bucky I knew died a long time ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam nods thoughtfully as he turns to Steve.  “I’m worried about that, too, Cap.  Because if it’s true...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t finish the sentence.  He doesn’t have to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam?” Steve sighs.  “It won’t matter.  It’s Bucky.  Nothing he could ever do would be bad enough for me to abandon him a second time.  I’m gonna find him, and make sure nobody ever hurts him again.  Even if they’ve turned him into Satan himself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam takes a long, deep drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you suppose that makes me?”  Steve asks quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re a soldier.  You never were an angel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.  No, I don’t suppose I was.  You know, Buck always could make me do anything.  So whatever I am now, I always have been.  At least when it comes to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Steve will to anything - anything - to find Bucky and bring him home.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Introspection and Evasion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>See end of chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>The Soldat sits up and stretches.  He’s sore, especially his right shoulder, but it’s back in its socket and the break in his arm is healed, so it is no longer worthy of thought.  The other wounds were hardly worthy of thought to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls off the blanket that has covered him, head to toe, for a week.  It smells foul, but he has been required to sleep in worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BEFORE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a troubling concept, the knowledge that he is no longer the property of anyone.  Frightening.  Disorienting.  Certainly he can meet his own needs; it had cost him no effort to procure the filthy clothes he’s wearing and the blankets in which he’s been wrapped as he lay in the squalid dimness beneath this overpass.  He has no belongings that can be stolen by the other wretched souls here, and his reaction the one time someone did try to roll him was enough for them to understand that was a Very. Bad. Idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now there is no mission.  There do not seem to be consequences, which means there are no rules.  Although The Soldat senses that this should be a good thing, the lack of parameters makes him nonetheless extremely anxious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SO MUCH NOISE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat realizes that his thoughts are confused, and there are far, far too many of them.  He tries to achieve the focus he is used to, but without the words, and a mission briefing—  He tries thinking the words to himself.  What would be the effect if he is made abjectly obedient to himself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Желание</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ржавый</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There is nothing.  No reaction.  Said within his own mind, they are simply words.  It makes him angry.  He stands, shaking himself out and stretching some more.  He is pleased to notice that the people around him who are awake this early are watching him warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is wearing a soiled sweatshirt over a stained and torn T-shirt.  He reaches under the sweatshirt to his utility belt and pulls out the last of his supplements.  He will need to find food now, but that is no concern.  His immediate concern, now that his body is mostly healed from his fight with The Target—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>STEVE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That word again.  That name.  It is forbidden, but The Soldat has now thought the name so often that there is a numb void where the pain it causes used to be.  That is not by his choice.  It is The Remnant who will not stop repeating the name in that desperate, strained howl that hasn’t stopped since the helicarrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>ASSHOLE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat scowls, causing a few of those sitting nearby to look away as though suddenly very interested in something else.  He hates The Remnant, never more so than now.  The Remnant is a major annoyance.  It — </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> will not shut up.  The Soldat can hear him screaming words at him almost constantly now.  The Remnant’s words are always in English, although The Soldat thinks entirely in Russian.  The Remnant is making demands, just as They do, but The Soldat has no problem with resisting The Remnant.  The Remnant cannot administer consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just that, since The Soldat’s malfunction, The Remnant has become so strong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Remnant is also a stubborn, determined motherfucker.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours later, The Soldat has covered himself with a large scrap of tarp he found, so that the video of him breaking open and removing all the cash from an automated teller machine will be of no use to anyone looking for him.  He has purchased clean clothing and is currently standing under a scalding hot shower.  He is looking forward to his body smelling better.  Unfortunately, the apartment he’s broken into is apparently inhabited by a single woman with a fondness for floral scents.  The Soldat will smell a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> good for his own preference, but at least he will be clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cacophony of thoughts persists.  Since he can’t shut them off, he’s begun to try to ignore them.  But he is not very successful.  He appreciates the hot water although, when he considers it, that seems strange to him, given some of his previous experiences with hot – even boiling – water.  Then again, he also has much experience of water cold enough to hurt.  Of the two, he prefers hot showers.  Interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat leaves the woman’s apartment the way he found it.  He leaves no fingerprints or hairs.  He can do nothing about the broken window hardware, but he surprises himself by leaving several twenty-dollar bills on the counter near it.  That makes no sense, but he attributes it to more of the malfunction caused by The Target.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>STEVE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat growls in irritation as The Remnant begins to shout The Target’s name yet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As The Soldat removes his putrid clothes from the floor of the bathroom, he realizes something troubling about that thought.  Somehow, between the first time it formed in his consciousness on the helicarrier and now, The Soldat has realized that “Steve” is a name.  It is the name of The Target.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why would The Target’s name be forbidden?  More importantly to The Soldat, why will The Remnant not stop fucking repeating it?</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat is very busy for the next few days, although that would not be particularly apparent to anyone watching him.   The Soldat finds public areas that are not under video surveillance.  In the capital of America, there are few of those.  One advantage he has is that he does not think those seeking him would expect him to remain in the city, so they may not look too hard for him here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considers breaking into another residence, but he knows that if he does somehow appear on a surveillance camera, he is far less likely to be noticed if he’s doing something other than committing a crime.  The Soldat is not stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he easily finds a hopelessly seedy flophouse hotel where he needs no identification or credit card, and will not be disturbed.  The last thing those at the hotel want is any notice from anyone, even each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Travelling from unwatched place to unwatched place is hardly worthy of The Soldat’s attention, nor is attending to his hunger and other needs from time to time. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat’s attention over these days is instead focused inward.  He has decided to try to make some sense of the frantic jumble of thoughts bombarding his consciousness.  He does not know exactly why he does this.  Perhaps he will have a realization that will assist him in planning his next moves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t a coherent, clear thought that takes him to the Smithsonian.  In fact, it almost feels like he ends up there by accident, although when he looks up and realizes which building is in front of him, he knows it is not an accident.  The Soldat’s mind informs him that there is an exhibit about The Target inside.  He does not know where he got that information.  Obviously, it was not considered necessary to wipe it from his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t difficult for The Soldat to locate the exhibit about Captain America and the Howling Commandos.  It is extremely difficult for him to keep his expression neutral as he gapes at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BUCKY</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat, of course, recognizes both his own face and the name the target called him.  What he had thought was a trigger word was, in fact, his own name.  He has absolutely no idea what to do with that information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No.  Not The Soldat’s name.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> name.  The name of what came before.  The name of the person who existed, and who has all but disappeared.  It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Remnant’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> name.  In one way, The Soldat is gratified to know that he is right: The Remnant is a person.  But for the most part, The Soldat is simply confused and sad.  He does not know the name of the other emotion, the heavy, troubling sense of emptiness tinged with anger that makes him want to strike out at this Bucky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat does not know that what he feels is envy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat is not a person.  He is unworthy of a name.  That is one of the first and most basic instructions in his operations protocols.  But James Buchanan Barnes…  Although he is now no more than a ghost in his own head, James Buchanan Barnes was a person.  He had a name, a past, a family and – apparently – a best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>STEVE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Target.  So that is who he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat realizes that he is almost grateful for the pain in his head as all these forbidden words careen around in his brain.  He can focus on the pain, which is solid and real and very present, so that he does not lose himself in the absolute chaos of his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It also helps him to stop feeling useless emotions.  Some emotions serve a purpose.  Fear and anger, for example, are assets to his work.  Most, however, are worthless, and can even be detrimental.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is unsettled by the exhibit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he sees the photographs and videos.  He understands the information.  But he has no sense that he and The Remnant – Bucky, or James Buchanan Barnes, or whatever the fuck his name was – are one.  In fact, he is certain that they are not.  The recollections The Remnant managed to free from the confinement in which he’s imprisoned are not The Soldat’s recollections.  They are The Remnant’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then… who is The Soldat?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is all too confusing and The Soldat can learn nothing more, make no more sense of it, by remaining here.  Besides, this museum is heavily monitored and full of eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As would be expected in this капиталистическая собака country, he must exit past a store featuring useless merchandise.  As The Soldat glares into it, his step actually falters.  The person behind him in the moving crowd utters a blasphemous insult as he crashes into The Soldat.  The Soldat does not even notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a selection of greeting cards in several languages.  The one that has caught his eye features a saluting Captain America and a message that is inane in English and nonsensical in most of the other languages into which it has been translated.  Actually, The Soldat notices, it’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>mis</span>
  </em>
  <span>-translated in three of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>STEVE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat does not realize as he purchases one of the greeting cards that he is obeying the instructions of The Remnant.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat is very well trained.  He blends easily into his surroundings.  He spends another day moving around Washington, looking for something.  Someone.  For the first time in his memory, The Soldat installs his own mission.  The mission takes some time, because he must avoid showing his face to cameras, while looking into the faces of all the men he passes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes until late on the day after his visit to the museum before he finds a man with thick, brown hair and gray-blue eyes.  The man’s jawline is wrong, but it is close enough.  The man’s body is very different from The Soldat’s, but that is of no importance.  His identification photo shows only his face and, if the weight on his drivers’ license is noticed, The Soldat will make up a story.  It is child’s play for The Soldat to relieve the man of his wallet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>RUN</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has been in Washington too long.  The countries and organizations looking for him may not expect him to still be here, but too many of them have a presence in the American capital.  The Soldat is relieved to find that The Remnant does not fight his intention to leave the United States.  Among the other bewildering aspects of his situation, The Soldat does not understand why, if The Remnant was Bucky, he does not urge The Soldat to seek out The Target, who was supposedly his friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>STEVE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat finds himself cursing The Remnant as he watches the landscape outside the train window.  He is very tired of being reminded that The Target’s name is Steve.  It occurs to The Soldat that his malfunction now has him sending quarrelsome thoughts to another person within his own head.  Or at least what’s left of another person.  Although, with each additional day since the target –</span>
</p><p>
  <span>STEVE</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Иди на хуй!  The Soldat scowls fiercely as he does whatever the internal equivalent of shouting is.  Have it your way, муда́к, his name is Steve.  Just shut the fuck up about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*    *    *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>In Boston, The Soldat easily gets himself hired onto the crew of a ship bound for Portugal.  The voyage takes only slightly over a week, but it is a difficult time.  The work is nothing.  The difficulty is The Soldat’s mind.  It is a mess.  His consciousness is now filled with words, and his thoughts are so muddled and tumultuous that he becomes easily distracted.  More than once, he is reprimanded for his inattention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first few times the Captain or crew boss reprimand him, The Soldat prepares for consequences.  The consequences do not come, but the expectation of consequences leads The Soldat to uncover a shadowy group of memories that They have not fully wiped.  It is very old, from when They had first owned him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Them asking him, again and again, “What is your name?”  He hears echoes of his answers.  A defiant, “Fuck you!  My name is Bucky Barnes!”  A high screech forced out between teeth gritted against pain, “I am James Buchanan Barnes!”  A gasping, grunted, “Bucky” followed by a mouthful of blood spit into an enraged Russian face.  A furious “Bucky fucking Barnes” forced through swollen, burning vocal cords that could no longer produce any sound beyond a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following every remembered response, The Soldat feels the ghosts of impact by fists, whips and boots, the burn of taser rods and the searing of white-hot metal.  Being submerged in freezing water, over and over, near-drowned before being pulled up by his hair to be asked his name yet again.  He narrows his eyes and doesn’t even breathe as he strives to recover a hazy, red-tinged shred of a whimpered, “Barnes,” croaked weakly through tears.  It is followed by a more clearly-recalled flash.  A scalpel.  A hoarse scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat fights to remember when he began to answer correctly, but he cannot.  What he does remember is that, in the beginning, to answer correctly brought shame so great it almost covered the relief.  He remembers terror that They would know he was lying when he said he had no name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks his memories skip a long period of time, because he does not remember when or how what came before became a shrinking, hidden thing.  He does recall coming to understand that neither They nor he could kill The Remnant.  He remembers his decision to cease acknowledging to Them that it survived.  His decision to imprison The Remnant in the dark abyss where it hid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BUCKY</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat thinks a halfhearted curse at The Remnant, but he supposes he should call what came before by his name, now that he knows it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat does not know why The Remnant – why </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky</span>
  </em>
  <span> – bothered to survive, just to become a wraith haunting his own mind.  But he does understand that, while the body could withstand the constant torture and ‘experimentation’, the part of his mind that was Bucky could not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Bucky retreated only far enough to disconnect himself from his body.     </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But They saw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They realized that their prisoner’s eyes would go unfocused and he would barely react after a while.  Of course, They punished him if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> react, but his reactions were actually much of the point of the torture.  So They were initially angry when They understood that he was learning to dissociate himself from it.  But for some of Them, that simply presented an enjoyable challenge.  The more he dissociated, the harder They worked to create consequences so hideous that he could not escape them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky fought every moment.  But the months of endless torture, wipes, injections, and constant orders to comply forced Bucky further and further into himself.  In the end, he was finally pushed far enough inward that he found a place They could not reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the ship, The Soldat begins to understand.  It was he who took the consequences that Bucky could not.  While Bucky retreated and hid, The Soldat remained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat is outraged.  A huge, vulgar exhibit in the Smithsonian, with extensive space devoted to this Bucky and his heroism, and the truth is that James Buchanan Barnes was a coward and a weakling.  This Bucky cowered in the dark while The Soldat took his punishment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For days both before and after the ship arrives in Lisbon and The Soldat melts into the shadows, The Soldat keeps Bucky ruthlessly restrained.  The Soldat does not want to hear from such a pat<strong>hetic excuse for a soldier.</strong></span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He crosses Western Europe as quickly and unobtrusively as he can which, considering his training, is as though he was never there at all.  The only potential challenges are international borders, since The Soldat doesn’t have a passport, but finding ways to cross them is hardly difficult.  Although he hadn’t consciously planned it, The Soldat realizes when he ends up in Krakow that he’s been heading for Eastern Europe ever since he left Washington.  He knows intellectually that he has a local accent in every language he speaks, but Slavic languages just feel right to him.  He finds it interesting that, while Bucky was American, The Soldat is not.  If he were speaking to Bucky right now, if he wasn’t so utterly disgusted with him he wants to carve him out of his brain with a spoon, The Soldat might consider that more closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, he just wants Bucky gone.  To think that he had, for a moment, been envious of the person Bucky was!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sickens him.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat’s arrival in Krakow goes entirely unnoticed.  He is pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds a very small flat in a very large block of them where he can hide in plain sight.  At first, he thinks he will simply steal whatever he needs.  Certainly burglaries and the like are no challenge for his skills.  But the same logic still applies here as in Washington – crime risks exposure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For almost a whole minute, he thinks about getting a job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emptying the ATM in Washington had provided him with enough cash for months.  He decides that he will simply continue to obtain money the same way.  The Soldat has always liked his metal arm.  He likes it even more now that it is his source of income.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> <strong>*        *       *</strong></span>
</p><p>
  <span>It has been two months now since he walked away from Hydra, and he thinks that he has not been active for this long since the Russians, in the beginning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is very, very strange. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The continuous currents of thought through his mind, which occur on multiple levels simultaneously, no longer seem like a blaring pandemonium, as they did in the first weeks.  It is an improvement, but only in his conscious processing of the present and planning for the future.  His memory remains largely unavailable to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or should he say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat <em>became</em>, for lack of a better word, when that craven milksop Bucky began to abdicate The Soldat’s body to him.  So The Soldat has memories only from early in his time as property of the Russians.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of the wipes, those memories are like a partially-constructed house whose builders have proceeded haphazardly, finishing some rooms entirely while leaving others bare studs open to the elements.  There are doorways and staircases that lead nowhere.  There is no foundation, only a set of programmed assumptions and an operating system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky has his own memories, which end at roughly the time The Soldat’s begin.  But those memories, especially, have been wiped.  At the beginning of his captivity, the sole purpose of the near-daily wipes was to tear Bucky out of his own mind.  He knows somehow that he fought with every atom of his being, but he remembers almost none of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the few memories Bucky has left of that time is sitting, naked and wet, in a corner of a very cold concrete cell entirely empty of anything, including light.  He has no way of knowing how long he sat huddled with his arms around his knees, shivering and defiantly chanting his own name, over and over, long past the point of losing his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does not remember telling himself stories of Brooklyn, and Steve, and his family, pulling fistfuls of his own hair out in frustration as he tried to find the pieces that had already been taken.  He does not know that Steve’s name was the last piece of himself he held onto, long after his own name had been stolen from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For The Soldat, this is not such a bad situation.  His memories are fragmented, with massive holes in them where wipes have torn pieces out.  But since most of the memories The Soldat does have are horrible, he has no desire to remember more of his time with his captors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s memories, of course, are mostly gone, and the few that remain have long been locked away with The Remnant of who Bucky was.  And The Soldat doesn’t give fuck one about Bucky’s memories, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until Bucky begins to dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There have been no dreams up to now.  The Soldat has simply fallen into sleep and then awakened, with nothing in between, just like when he was inactivated.  That ends suddenly and explosively one night and — </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>, The Soldat thinks — it is Bucky’s fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a huge, round light above him, like the ones they have in operating rooms.  It’s got him all but blinded, until a weird-looking little man with wire-framed glasses sticks his head between Bucky and the light.  Bucky hates him on sight.  The guy has a smarmy smile on his face, like he doesn’t know he’s got Bucky strapped down to some kind of hard table.  Like Bucky doesn’t know this asshole’s gotta be the reason no one ever comes back from here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sergeant Barnes,” the guy smirks.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, pleasure’s all yours, bub.  How’s about you let me up from here?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The guy smiles like Bucky’s made a joke.  “I understand you haven’t been feeling well?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nah, I feel swell.  Great.  Ready to go make some more of those thingamabobs out there.  So—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A pinched-looking man in some kind of doctor get-up hands the weird little guy what looks to Bucky to be one hell of a syringe.  That’s when Bucky notices the weird little guy has on a doctor’s lab coat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like he didn’t hate doctors enough before this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, listen, Ace, I got a real aversion to needles, and I ain’t sick, so I hope you ain’t plannin’ to poke me with that thing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A gloved hand appears in Bucky’s field of vision and, before he can even try to turn his head, the heavy rubber mask it’s holding clamps down over his mouth, smothering his scream of protest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the way dreams do, this one fades into a different time.  Bucky’s still strapped to the table, but now, there’s no one else in the room.  It’s very dark.  He can barely make out the tubes and wires and massive lights hanging from the ceiling, and the cabinets topped with unrecognizable medical junk scattered around.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky’s terrified, but it’s an exhausted kind of terror.  Like he’s been scared for so long he doesn’t really have the energy to keep it up.  Every muscle in his body hurts.  It feels like when he was thirteen and grew four inches in a single year.  His whole body had ached, like it does now.  He feels… wrong.  Like something’s inside him, revving him up too fast, and it’s been going on for a while, which is why he’s so tired.  It’s the worst Bucky’s ever felt, which is interesting since </span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span> how about that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span> he isn’t sick anymore.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He thinks about the weird little guy’s shot.  Zola, the guy’s name is.  He’s been coming around for days, however long Bucky’s been locked down to this fucking bed thing, asking questions and using weird gizmos on him and poking him with more damn shots.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky’s been giving it to him as best he can, yelling and cussing and saying the worst shit he can think of.  But he might as well be flirting, ‘cause the little freak seems to think it’s all hilarious.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So he’s quit now.  For the last day, all he’ll give is his name, rank, and serial number, like they teach you in basic.  Zola doesn’t seem to like that as much, although he still pats Bucky’s shoulder and gives him that creepy smile like he’s a prize pupil or something.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dream shifts again.  All the lights are on and Zola comes into the operating room, or lab, or whatever the hell it is.  He’s got a couple of gorillas in regular clothes with him, which has Bucky scared.  He wonders what the fuck they’re playing at now.  And he sure as hell doesn’t like the big table thing another guy in doctor duds is wheeling in.  It’s covered in a sheet, but it’s making a metallic racket that tells him there are some kinda instruments on it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There are.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>*       </em> <em>*       </em> <em>*</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat’s sheets are saturated with sweat as he blinks his eyes open.  His skin is clammy and he’s shivering.  His first instinct is to leap from the bed, but he can’t move.  He’s petrified.  He’s gasping for breath, panicked and searching the room with huge eyes.  It takes a full five minutes before he can summon the guts to slide silently from the cold dampness of the bed and stand.  He turns on every light in the little apartment and still wishes there were more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He searches the room.  He knows there’s nothing there, but he searches anyway, hoping it will help the dread subside.  It does, a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat knows it was a dream, but he also knows that those things happened.  Not to him.  To Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sneers and swears heartily.  He’s surprised to hear Bucky repeat the curse in English.  The Soldat has kept Bucky fairly well contained for months now.  He is not happy to find that Bucky is wide awake, and apparently now taking over their dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ain’t a dream, pal.  Ain’t a nightmare, either.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat is stunned.  Until now, Bucky has spoken in single words.  Annoying damn words, sometimes repeated over and over, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ad nauseum</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  The Soldat hates that quite enough.  Now he finds he hates Bucky speaking in sentences even more.  Not only because Bucky is supposed to be locked up tight.  But because The Soldat knows a threat when it presents itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Заткнись, ебаный мудак</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>!!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>The Soldat shouts at Bucky, out loud this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nice.  You kiss your mom with that mouth?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, The Soldat simply sputters, thrown so off balance by shocked anger and underlying fear that he can’t form words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he recovers, should anyone have been watching The Soldat, he would have appeared to be pacing, ranting to himself in Russian.  Which would have been odd enough, without the knowledge that he was actually arguing with another person, who was answering him in English inside his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not want your fucking memories!  Finish dying so that I can get on with things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t control what I dream, pal.  Anyway, seems only fair you get some of my memories.  Because I got news for you.  I have some of yours, too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lies!  You were not there, you were hiding like a mouse.  You could not even handle a bit of pain.  A little blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not those memories.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat is getting really tired of being shocked by his own mind.  “What then?  Not the memories that have been removed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hell of a thing, ain’t it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could not tolerate my memories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Listen, hotshot, I got no interest in remembering that shit.  But the memories they took from you, they’re not that kind of memories.  They’re information.  Shit we had to know for missions, but they didn’t want us to keep it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are offering them to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want outta here, you know?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.  A deal.  That will not happen.  You might as well disappear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nope.  They never could get rid of me, and </span>
  </em>
  <span>you</span>
  <em>
    <span> sure as shit won’t, now that I know Stevie’s alive.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I suppose you expect </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to disappear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wrong again, Ace.  You’re the one with the balls.  And between the two of us, we have enough memories to stay out of Hydra’s mitts.  But to do that, we need each other. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleeping becomes even more of a challenge than it already was.  The Soldat is incensed to find that Bucky now dreams anytime he tries to sleep.  Besides being deeply infuriating, having to experience those dreams is also distressing.  Bucky’s dreams are always hellscapes.  They are often muddled versions of memories involving Zola’s “experiments”, centering around Bucky’s fear of what was happening to his body as a result of the chemicals being injected into every part of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky dreams, too, of the men seen with him at the Smithsonian exhibit.  Sometimes, these dreams do not even involve war or blood, at least at first.  Sometimes, there is laughter.  Steve is there.  Bucky dreams often that Steve is smiling at him.  But there is something strange about some of Bucky’s dreams of Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dream often of a frail little man.  He looks like The – like Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He is Steve.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  This man is much smaller.  There is something wrong with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Got that right.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is obsessed with his own sense of duty.  He engages in needless fights he cannot win.  He is manifestly insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ain’t that the truth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat knows that Bucky is being amused, which makes him furious.  Of course, he is always irritated with the ridiculous person Bucky has turned out to be, now that he is no longer contained.  The Soldat does not know how he could ever have feared such a fool.  Bucky does not seem to have any sense of The Soldat’s peril.  He feels fear and disgust at the things Zola did to him, yet he seems unmoved by the much worse things The Soldat endured.  At this moment, The Soldat wants information, and he is immediately impatient with Bucky for his useless levity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer me!  Who is that skinny man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s Steve, idiot.  Before he got himself pumped full of serum and some kinda rays.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that angry little man is the same target I fought on the bridge and the helicarrier?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The very same.  Just… bigger now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“His decisions definitely still suffer from the same flaws.  What is wrong with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no answer for a moment.  There is…  </span>
  <em>
    <span>a feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span> before The Soldat hears Bucky’s response.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Absolutely nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is…  The way you feel.  Your friendship with him is different from the others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s my </span>
  </em>
  <span>best</span>
  <em>
    <span> friend.  Known him since I can remember.  I guess that makes us closer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  It is something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just shut up about Steve, willya?  I’m probably pretty fucked up in here, but you’re the last person I’d look to for psychoanalysis.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a scrape outside the door.  It is almost too quiet for The Soldat to hear, but it seems loud because it is the noise he is listening for at all times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is what saves him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is already moving by the time the door bursts open a split second later.  Two long strides, then he launches himself through the cheap glass of the flat’s lone window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a long way down.  Long enough that The Soldat has time to notice that They have positioned soldiers on the ground around the building.  That is wise, as is the large number of them.  He is shot twice before he hits the ground, but only one of the bullet wounds is worth his attention.  The impact with the concrete surrounding the building tears the tissues further, and he utters a loud grunt as he rolls to his feet, leaving a splotch of blood on the pavement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain causes a slight hesitation before he is up and running, which allows one of the soldiers to hit him with a third gunshot, this one to the thigh.  He hisses a string of curses, but the hitch in his stride is short and he resumes running.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next building in the block of flats is close, and reaching it provides him three choices of route.  They have been wise here, as well.  Each of the routes is covered.  The mistake that saves his life here is not Theirs, but that of the soldier in the anemic tree along the route to the left.  His minor adjustment to his aim catches The Soldat’s eye, allowing The Soldat to predict his shots and deflect them with his left arm.  The bullets spark against the vibranium, bright flashes in the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which apparently helps the other soldier see The Soldat, because he fires three true shots that The Soldat barely blocks.  The Soldat puts on a further burst of speed, ignoring the screaming agony in his midsection and the fact that each step pushes more blood from his leg wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walkway where he’s running exits the block of flats and reaches a street.  There are no soldiers in position with guns drawn this far from his building, but there is a vehicle full of them parked on the curb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have apparently been warned of his approach, because the car is already moving when he reaches the street.  It misses him by inches as he crosses in front of it and sprints into a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings.  The soldiers in the vehicle have to take time to stop and spill out of the car, because the alleyway is far too narrow for the vehicle to fit between the buildings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men from the car, and the others who have been chasing on foot, are surprised to see The Soldat jump, feet aimed nearly sideways to hit the wall of one of the buildings.  His feet seem barely to touch the wall as he uses his momentum to push off to his left, planting his left foot higher up on the wall of the building on the left side of the alleyway.  He pushes off again, his right foot higher yet on the wall of the building on the right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the next jump, he can grab the narrow ledge that runs all around the building on the left and, with a powerful jerk, throws himself upwards to grasp the edge of the roof.  With another yank of his arms, he’s nearly there, and able to throw a leg over.  He rolls onto the roof, out of sight of the soldiers on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But not the one on the roof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat runs straight at him, hand out to catch the bullets from his automatic weapon.  For a second, he looks like he’s holding a sparkler as the bullets impact the vibranium.  He is unaware of his feral grin as he takes the weapon with his right hand and uses his left to grasp the guy’s neck and throw him off the roof and into the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From there, it is an easy matter for The Soldat, now with a new weapon that still has half a magazine left, to jump from roof to roof until he reaches the car he has stolen, packed with supplies, and placed for just this event.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much for Krakow.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat notices that Bucky is not entirely absent as he pulls the bullet from his leg.  There is nothing sterile about the needle-nosed pliers he uses, but his wounds do not get infected.  They do, however, hurt like a bitch.</span>
</p><p><span>The wound has healed quite a bit during the drive from Krakow to Bratislava, which means he has to dig for the bullet.  It is a long, bloody task, during which he sweats profusely and swears even more.       </span> </p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s not saying anything to The Soldat, but he’s present, on the edge of The Soldat’s consciousness.  It’s different from when he was in containment.  Like Bucky’s gone back into his hiding place, but left the door open a crack.  The Soldat curses him for his continued cowardice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two of the gunshot wounds are through-and-through, but there is a bullet embedded in The Soldat’s midsection that he will not be able to remove.  He growls to himself.  His owners usually removed embedded bullets, so that he would be ready to fight sooner.  But not always.  In one of their “experiments”, they had shot him (like they couldn’t have done this when he happened to have a bullet in him, anyway, those assholes) and simply watched what happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What happened was a slow, excruciating, process of healing from the inside out, each repaired millimeter of tissue pushing the bullet out further.  The problem was that all his tissue healed at the same rate.  Which meant that, after a while, the bullet was pushed through intact tissue, basically shooting The Soldat from the inside out, in slow motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuckin’ hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat scoffs.  “Yes.  This will be bad.  You may want to go hide some more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, I would if I could.  I don’t wanna be around for that.  Thing is, that doesn’t seem to be an option anymore.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>So I am stuck with your useless prattling in my head all the time now?</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know, it’s like…  I used to be able to sleep.  Now I can’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That at least seems fair, since your pitiful dreams wake me up a hundred times a night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat can feel Bucky paying attention as he dresses the through-and-through hole in his shoulder.   There is not much room for a man as large as The Soldat in the tiny, well-used vehicle, which is just one of many parked in the area surrounding the huge railyard in Bratislava.  The Soldat is counting on being able to stay in this area for the next week or so, while his wounds heal.  Already, however, it appears that he may not have that luxury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a great deal more activity down here than he expected.  He chose this location because many railyards are surrounded by dead zones where there is no reason for people to be.  But not this one.  Already he has had to frighten off two different sets of assholes looking to see what he might have in his car.  Another event like that, and he will have to move.  It will take too long to heal if he must keep watch, and is therefore unable to sleep soundly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finishes caring for his wounds, The Soldat digs some food and water from the supplies in the trunk of the car.  He is grateful for his planning.  He has made a hole in the wall between the tiny back seat and the trunk so that he does not have to exit the car to get to his supplies, yet his supplies are not visible through a window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finishes eating, he is exhausted.  He checks around the vehicle and, seeing nothing troublesome, gets as comfortable as it is possible to get, cramped in this space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking dream, asshole,” he snarls to Bucky as he allows himself to fall into unconsciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t intend to kill anyone, but these things happen.  When he is awakened by the breaking of the window behind his head, he simply reacts.  The crew of street rats surrounding his car have shit for weapons, and The Soldat, of course, sleeps armed.  He’s even cuddling the automatic weapon he’d taken off the soldier on the rooftop in Krakow when he is awakened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That weapon is the street rats’ objective, actually.  Instead, it becomes the instrument of their deaths.  Except for the ones he kills with knives.  And the one he kills with his fist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one whose jugular is severed when The Soldat shoves his head through the car window, well… that is just bad luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat is grateful that it is dark.  It is not late, but at least the fight hadn’t happened in broad daylight.  He doesn’t see anyone in the area.  He heaps the bodies in the back seat as quickly as he can and covers them with a tarp that was included in his supplies for just such an eventuality.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You think of everything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky is not exactly cowering, but he is in distress.  The Soldat is not sympathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Заткнись,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Soldat spits, and gets on with looking through the wallets he’s taken from the men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their identification, surprisingly, gives the same address for three of the men.  It’s not far, and it’s worth a look.  The Soldat gets out of the car and puts on a long, dark coat which, again, was put into the trunk for this purpose.  You can hide a lot of blood under a long coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What are you doing?  You’re just going to leave those bodies?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Заткнись.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>As always, I am the one doing what must be done.  Go away.</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Told you, I </span>
  </em>
  <span>can’t!</span>
  <em>
    <span>  Is this the kind of shit you do?  Just kill random groups of people?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“When it is necessary, yes.  While you suck your thumb under a rock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t necessary.  You coulda taken those bums, easy.  That was just lazy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was expedient.  I have three gunshot wounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boo-hoo.  Thought you were supposed to be the tough one.  We’re not killing anyone else.  You got that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will consider it.  Bodies are problematic, it is true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, speaking of that…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Заткнись, идиот парень.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>I know what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The flat the men had lived in is, not surprisingly, a rat trap.  It has two rooms, both of which are furnished with what could only have been pieces rescued from the trash of someone who, themselves, lived in squalor.  The neighbors are druggy, shifty low-lifes who never meet The Soldat’s eyes, and never ask any questions about the former occupants.  Neither does the slumlord, who performs no maintenance.  In fact, he never comes near the place except to show up once a month looking for the rent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat sleeps for three solid days.  When he awakens, the bullet in his torso has been pushed slowly through his flesh until it is just barely palpable through his skin.  The first thing The Soldat does is cut it out, now that he can get to it.  Then he eats everything that he had been able to carry from the car in a duffel bag.  The rest of his supplies, unfortunately, are gone, at the bottom of the Danube with the car and the bodies of the street rats.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*    *    *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>During the year The Soldat spends in Bratislava, there is little violence, although not none, given the seedy neighborhood where his flat is.  The Soldat does not experience the agony of feeling the burning cold as his body solidifies in cryofreeze, or the far greater agony of the thaw.  He does not awaken from inactivation to find that several years have passed without him.  There are no sadistic Handlers.  There is no Lukin or Pierce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet the year is, in many ways, worse than any of the years The Soldat was held captive.  It is in Bratislava that he begins working to piece together the memories he holds with those held by Bucky.  For The Soldat, the experience is not bad.  The memories Bucky supplies him are strategic, operational, and administrative.  They concern politics, materiel, names, and locations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The difficulty for The Soldat – aside from finding Bucky maddening – is remaining patient as Bucky fights to retrieve those memories.  They are there.  But Bucky’s memory is as damaged as The Soldat’s.  It is not easy for either of them, and “patient” is a relative term where The Soldat is concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky learns that, for many years, there was only The Soldat.  The Soldat is not kind as he pushes to Bucky his own memories of trying to eradicate him, finally simply imprisoning The Remnant and concealing its existence from Them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a strange process for both of them.  It is not like one of them telling the other a story.  Nor is it as automatic or clean as uploading a computer file.  Bucky begins to call it “feeding” each other memories, for lack of a better word.  And it is much, much easier on The Soldat than it is for Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because there is a reason The Soldat carries so many memories for Bucky.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Желание </span>
  
  <span>Longing</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ржавый</span>
  
  <span>Rusted</span>
</p><p>
  <span>капиталистическая собака </span>
  <span> Capitalist dog</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Иди на хуй  </span>
  <span> Fuck you</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Муда́к </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Asshole</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Заткнись, мудила ёбанный!  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shut up, fucking asshole!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Заткнись  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shut up!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Заткнись, идиот парень  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shut up, idiot boy</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Soldat hides in plain sight in Eastern Europe, trying to make sense of his memories.  He is not pleased to learn that The Remnant is what's left of Bucky Barnes.  And that he's annoying as hell.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Need to Know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trigger warning:  mentions of self-harm, cutting<br/>For chapter summary, see notes at end of chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The air is bitter, piercing cold, like thousands of tiny icicles stabbing at every inch of exposed skin.  The wind screams in Steve’s ears, so loud he can barely hear his own voice as he shrieks to Bucky to hang on.  He ignores everything but the desperate need to get close enough to where Bucky is hanging from a railing that is, itself, barely attached to the side of the damaged train car.  All the while, as Bucky clutches the rail, trying to get closer, his eyes are locked on Steve.  Steve reaches out his arm, stretching with all his strength to bridge the space between them, shouting to Bucky to grab his hand.  Eyes full of determination and trust, Bucky lifts his arm, desperately extending his hand toward Steve. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Who fails to grasp it before the railing lets go. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As he falls, Bucky stretches his arms hopelessly up to Steve, screaming in terror.  Steve can only watch Bucky plunge, flailing, into the seemingly bottomless chasm.  He can see Bucky’s face for a very, very long time.  His eyes are wild with fear, his entire face a mask of shock and disbelief. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And then, in the way of dreams, Steve’s perspective shifts.  He is now the one falling.  He looks up at himself, watching himself cling safely to the train as it rockets on its way, becoming smaller and smaller as he falls endlessly through the howling, glacial air past massive rock walls frozen with ice.  He feels himself collide with stone outcroppings in the rough chasm, bones shattering with each impact.  He feels the strike that tears his left arm from his body. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And all the while he is plummeting, screaming, clawing at the air, he wonders.  Why?  Why didn’t Steve help me? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong><em>*       </em> <em>*       </em> <em>*</em></strong>
</p>
<p>As always, Steve awakens with a painful jerk of every muscle in his body at the moment he hits the solid, icy ground at the bottom of the crevasse.  He screams a ragged “NO!”</p>
<p>But there is nobody there to hear.  Just like there is nobody there to hear his anguished sobs as he pounds at his pillow, over and over, choking out “I’m sorry, Buck!  I’m sorry!  Bucky, I’m so sorry!”</p>
<p>The dream never changes, and he is never less than destroyed by it.  He’s been having this nightmare since before he went into the ice, and it’s excruciating every time.  But the truth is, he’s glad it was this one.</p>
<p>The new dream is worse.</p>
<p>Steve throws his legs over the side of his bed, hunching over and pushing at his sore eyes with the heels of his hands.  It doesn’t work.  With his eyes closed, he sees the snow, the ragged, tattered sleeve of that blue coat, the blood…  He stands abruptly, growling and beginning to pace in an effort not to remember anything about that other dream.  The one he’d first had on the night after The Winter Soldier had turned toward him, wearing Bucky’s face and absolutely no expression.  The one where he lays in agony on the frozen ground, watching his life ooze into the snow and praying for help that he knows will never come.  The one where he tells himself, in Bucky’s voice, that Steve isn’t coming to rescue him.</p>
<p>Because Steve is the one who let him fall.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>The Soldat is confident that he’s been invisible; he’s never seen any sign that They, or anyone else hunting him, have gotten close.  But it was pushing his luck to stay in Bratislava for a whole year, and it’s time to leave.</p>
<p>“Yakov Rusnakov” obtained a very good passport and other identification months ago.  They had cost him a great deal and left a witness who knew that his documents were fake, but Bucky categorically refused to allow The Soldat to kill the man once the excellent forgeries were complete.</p>
<p>As it was, he nearly frightened the forger to death as he stormed out of the surprisingly pristine flat in a block of dilapidated tenements, not bothering to shut the door behind him.  The forger could hear his homicidal freak of a client muttering to himself as he stalked down the filthy hallway toward the stairs.  He closed the door, locking it and putting his back to it as if to prevent the man from returning.  Whoever this Rusnakov guy was, the forger hoped he never heard from him again.</p>
<p>Bucky had spoken when the Soldat stepped out into a cold, late afternoon drizzle.</p>
<p>
  <em> I need to know about all of them. </em>
</p>
<p>“No.  You do not,” The Soldat snarled, low in his chest, as he headed down the street away from the tenement, eyes hidden behind a ballcap and long hair, but seeing everything.</p>
<p>
  <em> Every single person I’ve murdered. </em>
</p>
<p>The Soldat made a disgusted sound and spat on the ground.  “You will not thank me for those memories, мальчик.”</p>
<p>
  <em> No.  But I need to know. </em>
</p>
<p>It had taken a while to find an equilibrium again after that.  The discovery that Bucky’s will could overrule The Soldat’s had terrified them both.</p>
<p>Even though identification is no longer a problem, it will take some time to get to Bucharest, because he is going to do it the hard way.  It’s long past time to exercise some of The Soldat’s skills, and crossing Eastern Europe without leaving a trace is an appropriate challenge.</p>
<p>Whoever he is — or they are — now, there’s an odd détente in Bucky’s head these days.  The part of him that is The Soldat is still brusque and impatient, dismissive and overbearing.  But he tells Bucky to <em> Заткнись </em> far less frequently than he once did, and he almost never calls Bucky <em>гребаный мудак </em> anymore <em> .  </em> Now The Soldat just calls him <em> идиот мальчик. </em></p>
<p>Bucky’s fine with that.  In his life, “shut up” has always been somewhat of a term of endearment, and he never really minded The Soldat calling him a fucking asshole.  Being called “idiot boy” just makes him laugh, since no matter how you measure it, Bucky is much older than The Soldat.</p>
<p>Bucky hasn’t been able to remember all the valuable information he thinks is still buried in his mind, although it’s not for lack of trying.  Every day, he works to uncover more, even though he has to go through a great many of The Soldat’s memories to get to it.</p>
<p>And for Bucky, they are not memories.  For Bucky, each event happens for the first time.</p>
<p>He resists remembering the horrors of life as the Fist of Hydra, a title that seems grandiose for a slave who was routinely reminded of his lack of value.  They assured him that, as a weapon, he was worth less than any of the mechanical weapons they armed him with, and for which he was expected to be grateful.  He was a liability, They told him, because he required food and rest.  They provided supplements and pharmaceutical cocktails to combat these faults but, nonetheless, They never let him forget that a simple knife was superior to him as a weapon because a knife asks for nothing.</p>
<p>Bucky tries to avoid encountering The Soldat’s memories.  But they are everywhere.  It is a visceral experience to encounter the tortures to which his body and mind have been subjected.  He sees, hears, smells, and tastes along with The Soldat.  Perhaps those sensations and the agony are blunted, but they are quite present enough in memory to leave him gasping and writhing, desperately trying to distract himself from them.  He is often overwhelmed and incapacitated after stumbling into one of The Soldat’s memories.</p>
<p>Learning about the crimes committed against him is excruciating.  But then there are the crimes he, himself has committed.</p>
<p>Bucky has killed many people.  Bucky was a soldier on the front lines of a war, after which he was second in command of an elite squad that destroyed as much of Hydra as the Allies could find.  He is proud of what he can remember of his time with the 107th and the Howling Commandos.</p>
<p>But Bucky is also a murderer.</p>
<p>The Russians, the Nazis, the Soviets, and Hydra all sentenced those they considered enemies to death.  Then they sent The Soldat to carry out those sentences using every weapon imaginable, and many so horrible as to be unimaginable.</p>
<p>Bucky insists on knowing about all of them.</p>
<p>So The Soldat feeds him the memories, but the knowledge of what he’s done, and the mental images that bombard him, distress Bucky so much that he is often forced to beg The Soldat to stop.  For hours, days sometimes, he is frantic, nearly deranged with shame and grief, incapable of absorbing one more gruesome detail.</p>
<p>He has killed from hundreds of miles away using bombs and strategically placed poisons.  He has assassinated men from distances thought to be impossible using a rifle.  He has taken many lives from a few yards or feet away, and yet others from no further away than the length of his arms.  He has killed a few people who were pressed so closely against him that he felt their breath leave them.</p>
<p>The agony, the weight of shame and guilt that descend on Bucky as he learns the monstrous deeds he’s committed becomes unbearable.</p>
<p>Which is how Bucky discovers that pain in real time is helpful to dilute the torment caused by memories.</p>
<p>Sometimes, a heavy blow to the face from his left arm will do it.  Flesh wounds to his right arm or his legs can usually pull him back to the present.  On occasion, he ends up with his hand on the stove.  Twice, his anguish is so unendurable that he actually stabs himself.</p>
<p>He has never been more grateful for his enhanced healing ability.</p>
<p>*       *       *</p>
<p>“You know, he knew you.  Your pal.  Your buddy.  Your <em> Bucky </em>,” Rumlow sneers, cruel and defiant even as he kneels at Steve’s feet, defeated.</p>
<p>For a second, Steve has to decide between killing Rumlow instantly, simply for the blasphemy of saying Bucky’s name, and begging him for information about where Bucky is.  He settles for roughly grabbing Rumlow by the arms and shaking him violently.  “What did you say?”</p>
<p>“He remembered you.  I was there.  He got all weepy about it.”  And then, because Brock Rumlow is a sadistic prick, he can’t resist driving in the blade.  “Until they put his brain back in a blender.”</p>
<p>Steve is almost frozen with indecision.  The idea that Bucky did remember him, maybe still does…  The overwhelming urge to crush what’s left of Rumlow’s hideously scarred face wars with Steve’s desperate need to <em> know </em>.</p>
<p>Rumlow keeps talking.  “He wanted you to know something.  He said to me, ‘Please tell Rogers, when you gotta go, you gotta go.’”</p>
<p>Steve’s just beginning to try to puzzle that out when Rumlow continues.  “And you’re coming with me.”</p>
<p>It’s only then that Steve sees the detonator.  </p>
<p>Rumlow bursts into flame two feet in front of him.  But the heat and the blast wave Steve steels himself against don’t come.  Instead, he is shocked once again as the explosion is contained within a transparent scarlet bubble, all its force concentrated within that small area.  He whirls around to see Wanda behind him, struggling to contain all that energy and failing, her hold on it becoming weaker and weaker until she has no choice but to throw Rumlow, now a ball of flame, as far away from them as she can.</p>
<p>Which happens to be right into the Institute for Infectious Diseases.  The explosion blows a hole four stories tall in one corner of the building.</p>
<p>Steve stands, gawking, mind gummed up and stuttering with the whipsaw series of wrenching shocks he’s had in less than a minute, only thinking to call for fire and rescue after several heaving gasps.  It takes valuable moments to shake off some of his stunned paralysis and begin running toward the building, full of innocent workers and now a raging inferno belching thick, black smoke.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>The explosion at the Institute For Infectious Diseases is a debacle, and it is entirely Steve’s fault.  He pays no attention to the fact that the Avengers prevented Rumlow – now calling himself Crossbones – from getting his hands on a bio-weapon.  But then, neither does a single politician or the media.  All anyone can see is the carnage universally (and unfairly) characterized as having been wrought by the Avengers.</p>
<p>Steve replays the catastrophe in his head a thousand times a day.  He’d let himself be distracted by his hatred for Rumlow, with his scornful leer, his bio-armor and his massive weapons-filled gauntlets.  Rumlow was part of Hydra, part of the hideous torment Bucky’s been put through.  He had known exactly how to distract Steve, and Steve had practically jumped into the trap.  If it hadn’t been for Wanda, Steve and Rumlow would now be an indistinguishable mess of bloody confetti.  Steve deserved that.  But instead, a building full of innocent bystanders had been killed and maimed.</p>
<p>Which is what he tells Wanda.  She’s blaming herself, which is simply wrong.  All she did was save Steve.  It’s Steve’s fault he was lured into Rumlow’s trap so laughably easily by the simple mention of Bucky’s name.  Steve’s fault he missed the detonator until it was too late.  He should have blown up with Rumlow.</p>
<p>And the fallout is worse than Steve could ever have imagined.</p>
<p>The bound version of the Sokovia Accords is two inches thick.  It’s written in the most overblown, hypertechnical language Steve’s ever seen.  It should be a joke, this idea of “overseeing” the Avengers. They should be sitting in the common room mocking the damn thing and trying to figure out how to handle the situation they’re in.</p>
<p>Instead, Tony Stark, of all people, is saying “We need to be put in check,” and they’re facing one another across a room thick with a heavy, dangerous tension.  Every person in that room is appalled to realize that they are not on the same page about these Accords.  Not even close.              </p>
<p>Steve tries.  He reads every word of the heavy, dense volume, becoming more enraged and confounded with every page.  The idea that Tony Stark, the patron saint of irresponsibility, could possibly be in favor of such a plan!</p>
<p>Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his dry, sore eyes shut.  He’s remembering a conversation he had with Sam when they first met, at the VA center where Sam worked.  He remembers Sam asking what he might do if he retired from being Captain America, and realizing that he had no earthly idea.  Sam, trying to help, had asked what made Steve happy, and the answer had been the same.</p>
<p>Because the truth is, Steve <em> doesn’t </em> know.</p>
<p>Steve knows only two things for sure.  One: that he cannot endorse a system as dangerously flawed as the one that would be put in place by the Accords.  And two, that even now, with the imminent threat hanging over the Avengers and the team’s ability to protect the world, his highest priority remains finding Bucky.</p>
<p>Steve is terrified of what might be about to happen.  He needs the Avengers.  He needs the arguments and the camaraderie and the sense of shared purpose that make the Avengers a family.  He needs the bond they’ve forged through facing world-endangering threats together and saving one another’s lives countless times.  They’ve cried together, bled together, been willing to die for one another.  He needs the Avengers because he loves these intensely aggravating, fascinating, immeasurably courageous people. </p>
<p>And, the next day, he learns that he needs the Avengers because <em>he has no one else</em>.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>Peggy Carter’s death feels to Steve like the impact of the Valkyrie with the ice.  The difference is, he remains conscious and aware of his unutterable pain throughout the entire experience.  One more unimaginable loss.  One more link to the real world where he belonged and things made sense, gone.  One more proof that there is nothing in this world that Steve Rogers can rely on.</p>
<p>Maybe it’s the fear and agonizing loneliness that comes with knowing that he no longer has Peggy’s stalwart strength at his back.  Maybe it’s his distress over finding that the Avengers are not who he believed them to be.  Learning that half the team, even Natasha – <em> Natasha </em> <em>!</em> – can feel so differently about something so vitally important to all of them.</p>
<p>Whatever it is, it digs a canyon in his heart, into which Peggy lays one last gift.</p>
<p>During the funeral, Steve is surprised — for all of five seconds — to learn that the cute neighbor who turned out to be a secret agent was keeping yet another secret.  She’s also Peggy’s niece.  He doesn’t have much capacity to be shocked right now.  But if he did, Sharon’s eulogy might have done it.</p>
<p>Sharon shares an anecdote that speaks directly to Steve’s soul.  Reduced to its essence, the message is: when you know you are right, it is your duty to stand your ground.</p>
<p>Peggy’s message could hardly be more clear if she, rather than Sam, was sitting here next to him.  Steve feels Peggy’s strength flow into him, straightening his spine.  He knows now what he must do.  When Natasha comes to speak to him after the service, there is no question that he is doing the right thing when he tells her that he will not be signing the Accords.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>It is good to “stretch his legs” as The Soldat puts it, on the trip from Bratislava.  The softer skills he employs, though greatly enhanced, are things Bucky’s always been good at.  Things like sweet-talking ticket agents, bullshitting useful strangers, and petty crime.  But it’s extremely strange for Bucky to find himself sliding through checkpoints, gliding silently between shadows, reflexively avoiding cameras and police officers before their presence even really registers, and melting into invisibility in the blink of an eye.</p>
<p>There are only two instances where violence becomes necessary, and both are handled ruthlessly and without the slightest ripple to be noticed by anyone who isn’t involved.  And by the time those who <em> are </em> involved regain consciousness and notice the blood, Bucky is long gone.</p>
<p>Those are the strangest episodes of all.  Bucky realizes that, in some indefinable way that can only be seen in retrospect, the knowledge is The Soldat’s.  But the actions are Bucky’s.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>When he’s been in Bucharest for four months, Bucky’s fairly satisfied with his arrangements.  His entirely unremarkable-looking flat is actually exquisitely designed, with precisely placed defensive and offensive tools.  There are traditional weapons, but very few.  He doesn’t need them, and weapons draw attention if they’re discovered.</p>
<p>Bucky goes days without speaking to anyone and, when he does talk to someone, is carefully unmemorable.  For as little as he is noticed outside of his flat, though, he travels the city quite a bit.  He walks the streets, and knows every inch of Bucharest for three miles in every direction from his flat.  He knows the hours and routines of the businesses, knows the faces.  He sees everything, and marks the slightest deviation.  He’s invisible again, with a penetrating eye on his surroundings.  He’s as safe as The Winter Soldier is going to get.</p>
<p>He decides it’s as good a time as any to cut his hair, because he hates it.  They both do, if there’s a “both” of them anymore.  Bucky doesn’t recognize himself with hair that hangs below his shoulders, and The Soldat thinks he looks soft and stupid.</p>
<p>It’s the simple act of deciding how short to cut his hair that makes Bucky realize how much has changed in his mind since his escape from Hydra.  In thinking tactically about his appearance, it occurs to him that he’s expecting The Soldat to have an opinion.  He blinks, startled as it dawns on him that he can’t remember the last time he growled at himself out loud in Russian.</p>
<p>He feels silly as he says quietly, but out loud, “Hey, pal, you in there?”</p>
<p>идиот мальчик </p>
<p>Bucky smiles a little at that.  “Gonna cut this hair.”</p>
<p>There is no response.  All he gets is a sensation of The Soldat in the background, disapproving of his poor grooming.</p>
<p>That night, Bucky takes a shower and then stands in his dingy little bathroom, looking into the mirror by the light of a dim, naked bulb.  While his hair is still wet, he uses a utility scissors to cut six inches off the ends.  It’s chin-length, just straight and blunt, because he doesn’t think he can do anything fancy with these scissors, and he wouldn’t know how to, anyway.  Besides, the less people can see of his face, the better.  If they can’t see it, they can’t recognize it.</p>
<p>When he’s done, as he’s sweeping up the cut strands that have fallen into the sink and onto the floor around it, he catches his reflection in passing.  He feels a jolt.  With his hair like this, he looks like… there’s something…</p>
<p>
  <em> A narrow, two-lane road.  Trees growing right up to the edge of the pavement on either side.  It’s dark and he’s watching.  Waiting.  In his mind is a Cadillac.  Gold with a dark roof.  Long and square, an old model.  New York plates.  Something in the trunk They need. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He aims, the tire blows, and the car collides with the tree precisely as intended.  The front end is destroyed and the engine is on fire.  Inside the case, something bright blue like Hydra weapons… </em>
</p>
<p><em> There’s a man with white hair on the ground, begging for help for his wife.  The man is too old </em> .  What does that mean? <em>   He is looking at The Soldat… </em></p>
<p>
  <em> “Sergeant Barnes?”  The man gasps. </em>
</p>
<p>Bucky screams as he throws himself backward, through the door and away from the mirror, but it’s too late.  He can’t stop it.  The images solidify.  The memory plays through to the end.</p>
<p>Before Bucky loses consciousness, he hears The Soldat.</p>
<p>
  <em> Now you know.  They are the last. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong><em>*       </em> <em>*       </em> <em>*</em></strong>
</p>
<p>Bucky uses every ounce of strength he has to minimize the self-harm that calls to him every time the thought of Howard and Maria Stark comes to his mind, but it’s still a month before he is able to stop using his Ka-Bar on his flesh.</p>
<p>At first, he doesn’t even resist the impulse.  He needs something, anything to anchor him in reality against the agonizing tsunami of emotions that carries him helplessly along as the memory of that night, of his fist in Howard Stark’s face, his hand around Maria Stark’s throat, spools endlessly across his mind.  He doesn’t slice, and he doesn’t stab.  That’s not enough.  Not for this.  He flays.  He cuts bloody strips from his limbs.  Only that level of searing torment is enough to provide any relief from the greater anguish of the memory.</p>
<p>There is a subtle relief to knowing that there are no more murders hiding inside him, waiting to ambush him as this one had.  Bucky now understands that he has all the memories The Soldat is going to allow him.  After an excruciating year and a half, he now knows all that he needs to know about his time as a possession, a weapon, a tool.  He may not remember it all clearly or completely, but he knows enough.</p>
<p>Which is where the idea of the notebook comes from.</p>
<p>Knowing what he needs to know to stay safe has been the priority, and it’s been agonizing.  Bucky’s had all he could do absorbing and trying to find ways to live with the memories The Soldat has carried for him.  It was necessary, but it’s cost him dearly.  He isn’t the same man who fell from the train.  Even with all Zola had already done to him, Bucky wasn’t <em> this </em>.</p>
<p>He wonders if Steve would even know him now, if he didn’t wear the face of the man Steve once knew.</p>
<p>Bucky has carried the stupid greeting card with the picture of Captain America on it all the way from Washington.  He doesn’t look at it very often.  He can’t.  Can’t even think about Steve, or Bucky’s old life, most of the time.  But the memories of who he once was are pressing on him now.  They are buried, foggy, full of holes.  But he knows they’re there.</p>
<p>He’s not worthy of them.  Not anymore.  But he wants them anyway.</p>
<p>He starts to write down the bits and pieces left to him, trying to build a coherent timeline.  He knows the only reason he has any memories at all is the healing of his brain made possible by whatever the fuck Zola shot into him.  But he’s still frustrated as hell by the patchwork of disconnected images that are all that remain.</p>
<p>It will be a very long time, if ever, before Bucky’s memories of The Winter Soldier don’t burn his soul like acid.  Memories of himself, his family, and the Howling Commandos hurt differently, but even more.  And memories of Steve Rogers hurt the worst.</p>
<p>No, he’s not worthy of any of them.  Not anymore.  But no matter how much they hurt, he wants them anyway.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>Steve and Sam go secretly to Vienna for the signing of the Sokovia Accords, even though they refuse to sign.  They want to be on hand to help when the wheels come off.  Which, inevitably, they do.  Although the explosion doesn’t surprise Steve, he’s dumbstruck when he learns there’s quickly a suspect.</p>
<p>Bucky.  As if the whole world wasn’t already gunning for him.</p>
<p>Sharon Carter is once again the instrument of fate when she slips Steve a file that gives him his one chance to get to Bucky before it’s too late.  According to the file, Bucky may have been seen in Bucharest.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>Bucky knows for a fact that here is no longer a separation between himself and The Soldat, because when he sees the headline and knows that he needs to go to ground, his mind is silent.  There is no muttering to himself, no interior dialog.  There is only action.</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>Steve stands in the small flat, ragged but clean in a way that reminds him of the apartment he shared with his mother in Brooklyn.  <em> Bucky’s flat. </em> He knows for sure when he recognizes the handwriting in the notebook.  He pages through it, seeing words, phrases, that tell him immediately what it is.  What it means.  He clamps down brutally on any hint of a reaction.  He’s going to be overwhelmed when he lets himself think about that, and there is no time now.  He flips a page to find a cheesy greeting card with his picture on it.  There’s no writing on it, just the card with a stupid printed message inside.</p>
<p>
  <em> Bucky has a photo of him in his notebook. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Some part of Bucky remembers him. </em>
</p>
<p>There’s a sound, the barest hint of a breath, and Steve turns to find that, after years of believing him dead, followed by two more years of intense, desperate searching, at long last he is standing in the same room with Bucky Barnes.</p>
<p>And it <em> is </em> Bucky, he can see it in his haunted eyes.  They are not the eyes of The Winter Soldier.  They’re not the eyes of Steve’s best friend, either.  But they are Bucky’s eyes.</p>
<p>Bucky is silent.  In some distant part of his brain, he is concerned that Steve has entered his apartment wearing the Captain America uniform.  <em> Real subtle, pal.  So much for being invisible.  </em>He ignores it.  He waits, coiled and ready for whatever is coming.  He cannot speak.</p>
<p>Bucky is more afraid of Steve Rogers in this moment than he has ever been afraid of anything. </p>
<p>“Do you know me?”  Steve asks, voice low and as neutral as he can make it.</p>
<p>But Bucky is not worthy of memories of Steve.  Does not want Steve to know that he has them, although he sees that Steve has his notebook in his hands.  Which means he knows, anyway.  Bucky cannot look at him.  “You’re Steve.  I read about you in a museum.”</p>
<p>There’s a pause.</p>
<p>“I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be,” Steve says, just as he practiced with Sam, hoping to build at least some shred of trust in the few seconds they have left before SHIELD and GSG 9 come through every entrance in the flat.  “But you’re lying.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t in Vienna,” Bucky forces out, although he can barely muster the courage to try.  He knows how insignificant it is, in light of all the blood on his hands.  Still, he desperately needs Steve to know that he is innocent of at least this lone, single atrocity.  “I don’t do that anymore.”</p>
<p>“Well the people who think you did are coming here now.  And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”  Another line Sam has written and Steve has practiced.  Steve needs to sound sure.  Needs to be commanding.</p>
<p>“That’s smart.  Good strategy.”</p>
<p>That small, frightened, defeated voice should not be able to come from Bucky Barnes.  That, and the bleak fatalism of the words cost precious seconds as Steve reels from the blow.  His own voice is thick with emotion as he tries, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”</p>
<p>Bucky turns away from him, removing the gloves Steve hadn’t even noticed he wore.</p>
<p>“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky sighs almost inaudibly, the pain in his whispered words nearly physical as it slices through Steve.</p>
<p>“You pulled me from the river!”  Steve yells out of his own anguish, unable to stand the despair in Bucky’s voice.  “Why?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Yes, you do.”</p>
<p>And that’s all the reunion they get.  Because at that moment, the small flat fills with noise and movement.</p>
<p>It will later occur to both Steve and Bucky that, over seventy years later, they still move as one.  For now, there is no more thought or emotion for either of them as they fight, two men against however many their adversaries have seen fit to spare from their endless resources for this mission.  Steve and Bucky are not fighting together.  Not exactly.  But for the moment, they both have the same goal: to keep Bucky from being taken into custody by SHIELD.</p>
<p>Bucky learns quickly that Steve shares his opinion of himself when Steve takes a moment between blows to shout into his face, “Buck!  You’re gonna kill somebody!”</p>
<p>He’s glad, in that moment, for the opportunity to punch the floorboards to get to the bug-out bag he’s stashed under them.  It helps release some of the pain of knowing that Steve sees him for what he is.  It helps, too, to throw Steve through the window, a projectile to delay the guys outside and buy himself time to get out the door.</p>
<p>Which of course does nothing to deter Steve from whatever his end goal is here.  It’s only seconds later that Steve’s back, giving Bucky an assist with his shield that allows him to descend another flight of stairs.  If Bucky has to be taken in, he supposes it might as well be by Steve and whoever he’s working with.  But that doesn’t mean he’s going to be taken in at all, if he can help it.  He takes a deep breath and leaps into the empty space around which the stairs are built.</p>
<p>He counts three floors before he reaches out with his left hand and grabs the railing he’s weakened, little by little, every time he’s descended these stairs.  It tears away from its moorings exactly as intended, and he’s pleased to see that he measured correctly so that it catches just at the corridor he needs. </p>
<p>Bucky runs down the corridor, leaps through a window onto the adjacent rooftop, and retrieves his backpack on the run.  He is tearing open the door from the roof to the stairwell when he hears Steve land behind him.  Bucky whips around just in time to see Steve tuck and roll, coming up running toward him.</p>
<p>“Go!”  Steve yells, and Bucky lunges through the door into the dim interior, pulling the straps of his pack over his arms as he goes.  He immediately begins leaping entire flights of stairs at a time.  He lets himself impact the walls and uses that momentum to fling himself down each successive flight, feeling Steve right behind him.  That’s fine.  He’ll deal with Steve when he can.  Right now, he needs to get away from SHIELD and GSG 9.</p>
<p>They’re waiting outside the building, of course.  They’ve had plenty of time to radio The Winter Soldier’s location while he’s been descending to street level.</p>
<p>Which is why, after Bucky throws himself feet-first into the group of agents waiting hunkered down on the ground floor landing, he keeps going.  He leaps down another flight of stairs toward the building’s basement.</p>
<p>The agents were stunned and scattered when Bucky hit them; they’re unconscious when Steve’s done with them.</p>
<p>Steve might not have needed to do it, but he’s not about to take that chance.  As he bashes his shield into the face of the first agent, he feels a rush of the same possessive territoriality he’s always felt whenever anyone or anything has tried to come between him and Bucky.  He knocks the other three agents out with his fists and bends the automatic closing mechanism over the door so that it will take some time to get the door open again.  Then he continues down the stairs after Bucky.</p>
<p>He’s just in time to see Bucky’s back as he enters a door across the large, unlit space of the building’s basement.  Steve crosses the concrete floor in four strides and follows Bucky through the fireproof door to find himself in a furnace room.  Bucky’s just pulled a heavy iron grate from the floor and is about to descend into whatever’s below it.</p>
<p>“Don’t follow me, Steve,” he growls, low and determined.</p>
<p>“Please, Buck.  I can help you.  Let me.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s already lowering himself through the hole in the floor as he says, “I’m not letting you take me in.”</p>
<p>“Is that what you think?”  Steve asks incredulously.</p>
<p>The shock in his voice makes Bucky look up from the narrow, cramped utility tunnel.  Locks of his long, dark hair hang across his face, but Steve can still see the wariness in his beautiful blue eyes. </p>
<p>“I won’t let them hurt you, Bucky.  I promise you, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.  Please.  Let me help you.”</p>
<p>Bucky goes to his knees and unclips a penlight hanging from a carabiner on his backpack, flicking it on and setting it between his teeth.  He hooks the chest strap of the backpack and crawls into the damp darkness.  He doesn’t agree to let Steve follow him, but he doesn’t stop him, either. </p>
<p>One of Bucky’s – The Soldat’s? – key strategies for disappearing is to have someplace to disappear <em> to </em>.  So, of course, he does.  He knows exactly where he’s going, and every possible route to get there from the building at the end of this tunnel.  Since they’re looking for a guy in a black jacket and a blue cap, he removes both when he emerges into the maintenance room of a building across the street from his flat.  He’s just tossing his jacket and cap to the floor when Steve emerges from the maintenance tunnel.</p>
<p>“Steve,” he breathes, still nearly incapable of speaking out loud to the best friend he ever had.  Looking him in the eye is simply not an option.  “You can’t come with me.”</p>
<p>“Just don’t, okay?  I’ve spent the last two years looking for you.  Since the minute I found out you were alive.  You try to run on me now, I swear to God, I’ll knock you out and <em> drag </em> you someplace safe.”</p>
<p>He can’t help it.  That speech is just so <em> Steve </em>, Bucky couldn’t have kept from uttering a harsh laugh if Zola himself had come into the dark, cluttered maintenance room wearing one of those fucking double-armed weapons the Hydra goons had worn on that train through the alps.</p>
<p>It pisses Steve off for some reason.  “Somethin’ funny about me wantin’ to save your life?”</p>
<p>“It’s just, that get-up ain’t exactly low-profile,” Bucky responds, grinning.</p>
<p>Steve feels the easy, cocky familiarity of that voice in every cell of his body.  Suddenly, Bucky isn’t the beaten, damaged husk of The Winter Soldier.  He’s just… Bucky.  It only lasts a second, but everything Steve has done for the last two years is suddenly worth it, just to have heard that voice and seen that mocking grin again.</p>
<p>His face must show all that he feels, because Bucky swears expressively as he turns and reaches toward a hatch in the massive hulk of an old steam boiler behind him.  The latch makes no sound, rusty as it is, which tells Steve that Bucky has thought of everything in meticulously planning this escape.  Steve’s heart lurches to think about the kind of constant vigilance he must have had to maintain all this time.</p>
<p>Bucky turns back and tosses a piece of clothing, which Steve catches reflexively.  It’s a pine green, long-sleeved t-shirt, devoid of any logo that would make it memorable.  Steve blinks at him.</p>
<p>“If you’re comin’, you’re gonna have to leave Captain America behind.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s kicked off his boots and is already shucking his jeans.  Steve watches stupidly until he gets them off and, like he’d tossed the shirt, chucks his jeans at Steve.</p>
<p>“Or don’t,” Bucky shrugs, picking a pair of black sweatpants out of the hatch and beginning to put them on.  “But don’t think I won’t knock <em> your </em> ass out if I have to, to keep you from followin’ me wearin’ the fucking flag.”</p>
<p>Steve pulls his cowl off in one motion and begins unfastening the uniform as quickly as he can.</p>
<p>When he’s wearing Bucky’s jeans and the green pullover, and Bucky is wearing a blue hoodie with a jeanjacket over it, he watches Bucky pull his hair back into a quick, haphazard knot.  Bucky pulls the hood up and hands Steve a white cap.</p>
<p>“You stashed two outfits, huh?”  Steve notes.</p>
<p>“I stashed six.  Didn’t know what I’d be wearin’ when they came for me.  Let’s go.  They’ll be here in a minute.”</p>
<p>It’s everything Steve can do not to grab Bucky up in the hug he’s been craving for the last seventy years.  It’s even harder to remain silent as they carefully navigate the stairway up from this building’s basement, watching and listening for any sign that their pursuers have found this building.</p>
<p>And the pursuers have, in fact, found this building.</p>
<p>All Steve and Bucky can do is run for it, and hope their luck changes.  They’re easily able to outrun the agents, but the agents have vehicles, and they have backup.  Steve and Bucky need a ride.</p>
<p>Which they get, in a way Steve would never have believed possible.  They cut through a building, exiting onto the sidewalk of a four-lane thoroughfare, and Bucky keeps going, walking into the street.</p>
<p>“Buck!  Look out!”  Steve cries, seeing a heavy, black motorcycle bearing down on him.</p>
<p>Bucky sees it, too.  He lets it approach, planting his feet and, as it passes, reaches his left arm out to grasp the handlebar, stopping the bike’s forward progress.  The rider’s momentum sends him flying several yards down the street.  Bucky uses the bike’s momentum to swing it around so it’s facing the other way, throwing his leg over it before the front wheel even returns to Earth.</p>
<p>“Get on!”  Bucky shouts.</p>
<p>He doesn’t have to ask twice.</p>
<p>For two blocks, it seems like they’re home free.  But that’s because they don’t know about the helicopter.</p>
<p>They see it at the same time, which causes Bucky to let loose with a string of vulgar Russian.  Even in the circumstances, something warms in Bucky when Steve merely cries, “Dammit!”</p>
<p>Bucky feels Steve let go of his waist with one arm, then hears him talking loudly.</p>
<p>“We’re on <em> Bulevardul 1 Mai </em>, eastbound.”</p>
<p>Bucky wonders why Steve is telling him something he knows far better than Steve does himself, until he hears Steve say, “No idea, just follow the line of SHIELD and GSG 9 vehicles, we’ll be the ones on the motorcycle up front!”</p>
<p>Steve’s arm goes back around Bucky’s waist.  Bucky doesn’t have time to ask who the hell Steve was talking to, because he’s dodging around slower traffic and looking desperately for an escape route.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Buck!”  Steve shouts near his ear.  “Help’s on the way.  Just keep going straight.”</p>
<p>“They’ll cut us off!”</p>
<p>“Just trust me.”</p>
<p>Bucky puts it together then.  Steve’s in communication with someone else.  When his hand leaves Bucky’s waist, he must be triggering some sort of comm unit.</p>
<p>It’s less than a minute later when Bucky sees something strange.  He’s been glancing up from time to time to check the position of the helicopter.  Thus far, it’s just been hanging in the air, not engaging them but simply keeping track of their movement.  Suddenly, smoke is billowing from its engine.  Bucky looks up from traffic again and notes that there’s a very large bird that seems to be circling the helicopter.</p>
<p>Steve shouts in his ear again.  “Up ahead.  Turn left, get on <em> Strada Brasov </em>.  There’s a shopping center.”</p>
<p>“I know it.”</p>
<p>In ten minutes, they’re approaching the shopping center, which is surrounded on three sides by empty land, with a long, unpaved road to one side.  The <em> Strada Brosov </em> ends there, and just across the <em> Bulevardul Ghencea </em>, it’s a soft right onto that unpaved road.</p>
<p>There’s a small, boxy plane flying very low, and the large bird that had been flying near the helicopter is now doing a huge, swooping loop, keeping the helicopter and the plane within it.  It’s moving far too fast to be a bird, and it’s—</p>
<p>“What the hell is that?”  Bucky yells back at Steve, tossing his head in the direction of whatever is circling in the air.</p>
<p>“That’s Sam.  You’ve met.”</p>
<p>“That’s—  What?”</p>
<p>“That plane.  That’s our ride.  Hang on—"  Steve’s arm leaves Bucky’s side for a moment as Bucky careens across <em> Bulevardul Ghencea </em>, causing a number of vehicles to brake and swerve, with accompanying screeching horns.  Bucky hears shouting and can’t tell what’s being said, but he can imagine just fine.</p>
<p>He feels the rear tire lose traction for a second as they hit the unpaved road, but he corrects and puts on another burst of speed.</p>
<p>He feels Steve moving behind him, and can see in his rear-view mirror that Steve’s looking backward.  Following his gaze in the mirror, Bucky sees what he’s looking at.  There are three vehicles that have now crossed the busy thoroughfare, too, and are raising a cloud of dust as they rush along the unpaved road, less than a quarter-mile behind.</p>
<p>“Okay, Buck…  you up for a barnswallow?”</p>
<p>Bucky gives a start.  “You gotta be shittin’ me.”</p>
<p>He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice as he says, “Nope.”</p>
<p>Bucky doesn’t realize it, but his lips twist in a wicked grin as his eyes narrow.  Steve gets his answer as Bucky leans forward.</p>
<p>The odd-looking plane circles and slows, coming in low above them as the winged man – Bucky remembers him now from the helicarrier – is harrying the agents chasing the motorcycle with a weapon that shoots some kind of small missiles.  They don’t destroy the vehicles pursuing Steve and Bucky, but they make them swerve, slowing them down.  Bucky’s face is grim as he tries to coax just a bit more speed from the stolen motorcycle.</p>
<p>It’s enough.  A section at the rear of the small plane lowers, and the plane slows so much Bucky wonders that it doesn’t stall.  The lowered section is inches above the gravel of the road.  Bucky finds room in his thoughts to be impressed with whoever’s flying the plane.  He leans even more forward as he rockets the motorcycle straight up the open loading ramp and into the plane.</p>
<p>Steve yells, “Clint!  We’re aboard – hit it!”</p>
<p>There’s no room in the small cargo area to stop.  As the plane shoots back up from the ground, Bucky brakes for all he’s worth and the bike skids, hitting the wall of the plane’s cargo bay broadside.  He looks back to see that the pursuing vehicles are so close he can see the face of the driver in the lead SUV before the plane rises into the sky.  The man with the wings, whom Steve called Sam, angles into the cargo bay and makes a pretty running landing a few feet from the motorcycle.  The ramp begins to raise and the engines scream as the plane picks up speed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Мальчик </em>   Boy</p>
<p><em> Заткнись </em> Shut up</p>
<p>гребаный мудак   Fucking asshole</p>
<p>идиот мальчик  Idiot boy</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>After the horrific events in Lagos, Steve's shocked to find that some of the Avengers actually support the Sokovia Accords.  Steve knows that he cannot sign, and he gets some unexpected support to hold his ground.</p>
<p>Bucky leaves Bratislava.  A simple haircut uncovers one last, devastating memory.</p>
<p>And then, after seventy years of believing each other dead followed by two years of Steve's tireless search and Bucky's desperate fight to remember, they're finally together — being chased through Bucharest.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Going Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>See end of chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve has accomplished the one thing that he’s been singlemindedly working toward for two years.  To do it, he’s defied his government, and the governments of most countries of the world.  He’s gone against the advice and desires of pretty much everyone on the planet, including those who mean the most to him.  He’s compromised a whole lot of the values Captain America stands for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d do it all again.  And worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky is safe.  He’s unhurt and out of the clutches of anyone who might want to hurt him.  Not to mention that he’s right here, right now, where Steve can see him and talk to him like he’s been aching to do since that cursed day in 1944.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this sure isn’t how he imagined it would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t know how damaged Bucky’s mind might be, but he can’t fool himself that it isn’t bad.  After all, he’s looking at him.  Bucky is all but cowering as he stands, back to the wall, every muscle tensed to fight.  His eyes are those of trapped prey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve has shed tears just dreaming of this moment.  In the million or so times he’s imagined it, he’s always expected to be laughing or crying, or both, hugging Bucky for all he’s worth and proclaiming endless gratitude that he’s finally safe.  But now, in the moment, Steve is numb.  If he feels anything, it’s a sort of irritation with Bucky for looking hunted like he does, as if Steve hasn’t sworn to him that he will never be hurt again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which, of course, immediately becomes irritation with himself, for expecting that, after seventy years of the worst kinds of mental and physical abuse, Bucky would just shrug it off because Steve’s here now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is, after all, the reason Bucky’s endured all of that abuse.  Of course Bucky doesn’t trust him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, it’s okay.  You’re safe now.  Let’s go into the cabin, huh?  Sit down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky flicks a look at Sam, whom he’s been watching just as closely and warily as he has Steve, if not so directly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell you what,” Sam says, in a voice Steve’s heard him use on other combat veterans in crisis.  “Imma take off some of this gear.  The place it gets stowed, it’s that cabinet just over your left shoulder.  I’m guessin’ you don’t really want me that close.  But you could maybe slide along that bulkhead a ways.  Maybe to the other side of your bike?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky blinks, considering.  But he doesn’t move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After about half a minute, wherein the three of them stand, motionless except for the slight shifts necessary due to the motion of the Quinjet, Sam speaks again.  “’Kay.  Ain’t gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.  I’ll stow this stuff somewhere in the cabin.  That’s the door on your right.  So I’mma get closer, but that’s where I’m goin’.  And I’m not gonna touch you.  That be all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shifts his weight, adjusting his stance ever so slightly to cover Sam’s proposed route of travel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  That’s good.  I’m gonna start now.  Slow and easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s eyes continue to pin Steve in place, even as he’s watching every movement Sam makes.  Steve finds himself watching Sam, too, feeling an irrational impulse to protect Bucky.  He’s entirely aware that Sam will do only exactly what he’s said he will, but Bucky doesn’t believe it, so Steve makes sure Bucky can see him watching, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closes behind Sam, leaving Steve and Bucky standing, looking at one another over the damaged motorcycle laying on its side between them.  Steve doesn’t speak.  Sam’s told him that, whenever possible, he should let Bucky be in charge of everything that happens.  He figures this is a good place to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a full five minutes for Bucky’s posture to relax even enough to be noticeable.  Patience is not now, and never has been, a virtue associated with Steve Rogers.  But Bucky?  The Howling Commandos’ elite sniper has always had all the patience he needs, and The Winter Soldier has had to learn infinitely more.  He’s fully capable of standing here for days if necessary.  So Steve fights to remain still, reminding himself again and again that he’s grateful just to be able to look at Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he does, Steve takes stock.  He’s already noticed the obvious things, like Bucky’s long hair and the steely bulk of him.  He’s noticed the way he moves, which reminds Steve of a tiger or a cougar— some kind of big, dangerous cat.  And, like everyone always has, he notices how very handsome Bucky is.  More than handsome, really.  Steve’s mom always used to say Bucky was beautiful, and Steve would always laugh.  But she was right.  Even with all he’s been through, Bucky is still beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now that he has the time to really look, Steve sees that Bucky’s older.  During the war, Bucky had developed a sober maturity that looked absolutely wrong on a face that is supposed to be lit up with mischief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had hurt.  This?  This is heartbreaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Bucky crouched watchfully before Steve is grim and haggard.  He has laugh lines around his eyes now, which Steve knows all too damn well didn’t come from laughing.  He’s rough.  He’s cold and hard.  Sergeant Barnes of the Howling Commandos was a deadly threat, but he never exuded the kind of rage and danger the man in front of Steve does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks well, but he doesn’t look good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bucky is studying Steve with the same kind of microscopic thoroughness.  Of course, Steve still has that insane physique that looks so right on the man he’s always been on the inside.  What memories Bucky has been able to reconstruct tell him that Steve’s hair is a little darker, and he looks a little older.  Not much, but enough to bear witness to the fact that it’s been years since they’ve seen each other.  It looks good on him.  Although Steve’s always been good-looking, he’s certainly never been this handsome.  Bucky likes the idea of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the thing that disturbs Bucky is the mournful, careworn look about Steve now.  Like he’s needed a vacation for so long it’s no longer going to help.  Steve’s always looked too damn serious, but this Steve… he looks exhausted down to his soul.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something more than memory tells Bucky that.  It’s a feeling— a sadness, and a yearning to do something to ease whatever burden is making Steve look like he’s been dragging a load of bricks uphill since the day they last saw each other.  It’s that look, and the unexpected, bone-deep need Bucky has to do something about it, that give him the courage to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you taking me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve flinches a little.  He looks hurt.  “Bucky, no.  We’re not ‘taking you’ anywhere.  We’re getting you out.  Right now, we’re headed to the U.S., but you’re not a prisoner, Buck.  We came to help you escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t being held by anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were about to be.  Or worse.  You saw them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could’ve gotten away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve thinks about that.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you could have.  You could be running for your life again, all alone with nothing but whatever’s in that backpack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve lets that hang in the air for a moment, for once not barreling forward trying to force things to go his way.  Bucky doesn’t seem to be bothered by the scenario Steve paints, but after a minute or so, he does relax a bit more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me, Buck,” Steve says tenderly.  “I know it’s hard to trust anybody right now, and God knows I understand.  But it’s me.  It’s just me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice breaks on that last phrase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve…”  Bucky says, quiet and gravelly.  He’s looking Steve in the eye now, hard as that is, just letting the emotions wash through him without trying to sort them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of long habit, he feels for The Soldat.  There’s a strong sense of danger, but nothing more.  No instinct to take action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Steve.  I’ll try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For reasons Bucky doesn’t understand, the slight relaxation of the sad urgency in Steve’s face lets him relax that much, too.  It feels familiar, like he’s somehow accomplished a task he’s done before.  He has a flash of memory, of this expression on the face of a somewhat younger and much smaller Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want, we can go forward into the cabin.  There’s seats,” Steve tells him, still in that soft, careful voice.  “It’s only Sam and Clint up there, nobody else.  I’ve trusted them with my life more times than I can count.  Maybe not as many times as I’ve trusted you, but… they’re on your side.  They’re here because they agreed to help me get you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t move, though.  Bucky can see he’s working himself up to ask something; he might as well have a sign above his head.  Or maybe Bucky can still just read him that well.  Probably a little of the first and a whole lot of the second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, I—”  Steve bites his lip and tenses to get his emotions back under control.  “When you fell, and I thought—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve seems a little annoyed with himself as he viciously swipes at the tear he hasn’t been able to contain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Steve.  They told me you were dead, too.  A plane?  Plane crash?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I, um… it’s a long story.  I’ll tell you about it sometime.  It was in the arctic, and I got… well, I was in the ice.  They thought I was dead, but I was just… frozen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s eyes widen a little.  “How long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost seventy years,” Steve says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s how you’re still…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They froze me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Buck.  I’m… well, I’m sorry they did that to you, but… does it make me a jerk if I’m glad you’re here now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah.  That ain’t what makes you a jerk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky has absolutely no idea why he says that.  It’s simply his reflexive response to Steve’s question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Steve’s expression goes blank, like he’s trying to translate Bucky’s words, or maybe just trying to believe he heard correctly.  Then, slowly and somewhat against his will, a surprised smile begins to dawn on his face.  A shaky chuckle escapes as he looks at Bucky like he’s not sure he’s allowed to laugh.  And now that Steve’s actually starting to smile, Bucky can’t help but grin, too.  When he does, Steve allows his face to relax into what becomes a real, full smile, while he shakes his head like he should’ve seen Bucky’s answer coming.  Bucky’s grin becomes almost a smile, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a moment so good it hurts.  Steve has to actually clench his fists to keep from moving to hug Bucky.  Bucky notices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything’s all right, I just… it’s just real good to see you, Buck.  It’s been… kinda rough.  I wish I could… but Sam says you won’t want to be touched.  And I know you don’t trust me yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Steve’s amazement, Bucky huffs out a little laugh, and the edges of his lips turn up even more.  It’s still not a smile, but it’s close.  “Shoulda known.  Seventy years, and you’re still a fuckin’ sap.  You want a hug, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gives the most unconvincing shrug in human history.  He pushes another tear from his cheek.  “No, it’s okay.  I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is stunned to see Bucky take a small, experimental step away from the safety of the bulkhead.  It’s slow and hesitant, and Bucky can feel The Soldat’s disapproval and heightened anxiety as he does it.  He thinks The Soldat would stop him if he could.  Bucky’s scared enough of the contact that he kind of wishes he would.  But instead, he forces himself to take another step toward Steve.  It’s important, almost necessary that he try, although he doesn’t understand why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t remember that he has never in his life been able to stand Steve’s tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to step around the downed motorcycle on the deck of the cargo hold they’re in, and it takes several steps to do it.  As he moves, eyes resolutely not meeting Steve’s, Bucky’s thinking that he watched Steve put on the clothes he’s wearing.  He knows Steve’s unarmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can do this.  He can.  Steve is… well, like he said.  It’s just Steve.  And somewhere inside Bucky, buried deep below the part that really, really doesn’t want to be held, is a part that sort of, kind of, does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Bucky’s relief, Steve doesn’t move, just lets him take his time.  It’s not until Bucky is standing a step away from him that Steve lifts his arms, using all of his willpower to move as slowly and obviously as he can so Bucky sees it coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky takes a shuddering breath and puts a hand on Steve’s right shoulder, stepping so that their chests are just barely touching, and lightly placing his metal hand on Steve’s back.  The hug starts tentative and awkward, both men being excruciatingly careful.  Steve pulls Bucky a little closer, but he doesn’t squeeze him, despite everything about him screaming to do just that.  Bucky’s eyes are open, darting around the space, his forehead wrinkled in wary concern.  Still, he notices something happening inside of him that he doesn’t recognize.  Whatever it is, it’s not bad.  In fact, it’s okay.  Maybe even a little bit good.  He tightens his arms experimentally around Steve, just a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which Steve takes as some kind of fucking VIP all-access pass and instantly goes full-on supersoldier.  He wraps Bucky up in his arms and clutches him tightly enough to break ribs on a normal man, slapping him on the back a few times before settling in to the embrace.  Bucky’s surprised at the vehemence of the hug but, for some reason, not very.  It’s tight.  It’s really tight.  But it’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t be.  But it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve would have held on forever.  He’s crushing Bucky to him – </span>
  <em>
    <span>jeez, he’s built now</span>
  </em>
  <span> – keeping his tear-filled eyes open so he can see a little of Bucky’s hair and know that it’s really him.  It feels like if he can just stay here, with Bucky right there, he would never give another thought to what happened in the rest of the world.  Wars, power-mad lunatics, those damned Accords, the look in Tony Stark’s eyes when they’d last seen each other… all of it pales to nothing compared to having Bucky here, safe and solid in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s not long before he feels Bucky stiffen up.  Steve forces himself to let go, hearing an echo of Sam’s voice telling him the two years of searching are nothing – the work of getting Bucky back, if that’s even possible, hasn’t even begun yet.  So he lets go.  They have time now.  And he will do anything Bucky needs, anything he asks.  No matter how long it takes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They separate and Steve’s not quite sure what to do now.  They’re still standing close together and Bucky just waits, as though he needs Steve’s instruction, or his permission, to do anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, pal.  Let’s go in,” Steve finally says gently, and reminds himself to move slower than usual.  He restrains a strong impulse to put an arm around Bucky’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the cabin, Sam’s removed the EXO-7, as well as his goggles and vest.  Now he’s wearing an Air Force T-shirt and standing, leaning forward with one hand on the exposed overhead strut between the cabin and cockpit.  He’s laughing with Clint, but both turn to the door as soon as it opens.  Steve sees both Sam and Clint fix their expressions, trying to look open and pleasant.  They end up just looking dumb.  If it wasn’t such a tense, critical moment, Steve might be tempted to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam moves to the side, against the bulkhead, trying be nonthreatening and give Bucky space.  He nods at Bucky, who’s still coiled like he’s about to unleash holy hell on them any second.  Which Sam is well aware he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve steps to the side between two seats.  Like Sam, he’s trying to make Bucky as comfortable as possible, giving him room.  “Bucky, this is Clint Barton.  We call him Hawkeye, and when you see what he can do with a bow and arrow, you’ll understand why.  Clint, James Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nod to one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I get to call you Bucky, too?”  Clint asks, and it’s anybody’s guess how real his grin is, but it looks friendly enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bucky answers, almost too quietly to hear over the engines.  “Sure.  That, uh, was some nice flying back there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Clint smiles for real.  “Hey, thanks.  Takes two to do a barnswallow, though.  You did great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky just nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is Sam Wilson, Buck,” Steve says, indicating Sam.  “We call him the Falcon, for obvious reasons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam and Bucky give one another a nod.  Bucky has a sense that he should probably try to say something about what he’d done to Sam on the helicarrier, but it’s beyond him at the moment.  Sam doesn’t seem to expect it, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve manages to get Bucky to take a seat.  He’s sad, but not surprised, when Bucky chooses the rear corner seat, furthest away from the others.  From there, he can keep an eye on all of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having gotten Bucky at least inside the cabin and seated, Steve realizes he should probably give him a chance to get his bearings a little, if he can.  Although all he wants to do is sit and talk with him, Steve knows Bucky probably desperately needs some time right now.  He also knows he can’t put off contacting Tony Stark much longer.  Tony is already back in New York. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is not a call Steve’s looking forward to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky,” he says, leaving a seat between them as he straps himself in.  “I need to make some arrangements for when we get back.  I’d like… I mean, if you’re willing… the safest place I know is a building in New York that Tony Stark owns.  You know who Tony Stark is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky goes white and fights down the bile that’s suddenly choking him.  He nods curtly.  “You mean Avengers Tower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Seeing the look on Bucky’s face, Steve rushes on.  “It’s the safest place I know, Buck.  Nobody can get to you there.  They might suspect that’s where you are, since they saw me in Romania, but they won’t know.  And—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky sighs, still with that low, breathy, defeated voice Steve’s grown to hate in the space of an hour.  Steve vows to make someone pay for that voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It… you… agree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Said I’d try to trust you.  This is me, trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve resists the desire to reach out and lay a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.  Instead, he settles for a half-smile and a nod of approval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call starts about as badly as Steve expects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you?”  Tony barks when he picks up the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On our way home.  Which you know as well as I do, because you’re tracking us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right.  I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We found him, Tony.  He’s okay.  They didn’t get him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’They’.  You mean the legitimate authorities who want to bring a fugitive terrorist to justice?  Is that the ‘they’ you stopped from arresting said terrorist?  Don’t ask me to congratulate you, Cap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And don’t ask me to believe for one second they had ‘capturing’ in mind.  I was there.  They weren’t there to bring anyone to justice, Tony.  Don’t insult my intelligence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There go my weekend plans.  Anyway, what is it you want from me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to get him somewhere safe.  And you’re always telling me the Tower is the most secure building on Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a stunned silence on the other end of the phone.  Steve thinks for a second they’ve lost the connection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice that answers is low and dangerous.  Steve’s never heard this note in Tony’s voice before.  “Are you seriously asking me to shelter the fucking Winter Soldier?  Is that actually what’s happening right now?  After everything we’ve talked about, everything that led to the Accords…  Were you paying attention to any of that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t occur to Steve that Bucky, too, has supersoldier hearing, and can hear Tony clearly, even though the call isn’t on speaker.  It doesn’t matter, anyway.  Everyone on the Quinjet knows, without needing to hear the other side of the conversation, pretty much exactly what Tony’s saying.  All they have to do is look at Steve’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony.  You know this isn’t about any of that.  It’s about Bucky.  He’s not The Winter Soldier, Tony, he’s my best friend, and he needs help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know who needs help?”  Tony snarls, “You need help.  Because the governments of the world managed to get the signing done despite the efforts of your slaughter-happy pal with the metal arm.  And let me tell you something, Rogers.  My first act under the Accords is not gonna be sheltering the guy who tried to blow ‘em up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t him, Tony.  He didn’t do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ‘cause he says so and you went to kindergarten together?  That may be good enough for you, but it is nowhere near good enough for me.  And even if by some cosmic fluke he didn’t commit that particular war crime, he’s still the most wanted assassin on the planet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sighs in disappointment as only Captain America can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony, I’m asking you.  You know what he’s been through.  Do it for me, if you won’t do it for him.  Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Steve.”  Tony can sigh pretty expressively, too, as it turns out.  “What you’re doing, it makes you a criminal, too, and the ink’s not even dry on the Accords.  Nothin’ good’s comin’ from that, but we can still fix this.  I know he was your friend.  I mean, I’m not unsympathetic here, Capsicle.  Bring him back to New York, by all means.  They’ll take him into custody, but we’ll make sure he has the best lawyers.  We have plenty of evidence to show what Hydra did to him.  We’ll get him the help he needs, and you’ll get a stern lecture, nothing worse than that.  But we gotta do this right.  I’m not hiding him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do that, Tony.  Bucky’s been through hell.  I won’t risk one more thing happening to him.”  Steve’s voice goes almost as sad as his eyes.  “I trust you.  I don’t trust them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do this, Cap,” Tony’s pleading now.  “Please.  Don’t make this worse than it already is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to hang up now,” Steve says in a flat, desolate monotone.  “I’m going to turn off everything that lets you track us.  I’m sorry it’s come to this.  I really am.  If you want your dad’s shield, it’s in the basement of a building across the street from Bucky’s apartment in Bucharest, behind an old boiler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn you, Rogers,” Tony hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Tony.  Be safe, and take care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve pushes the button to end the call and looks up at Clint, whose expression matches his, if a little angrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard, Cap.  Goin’ dark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flips a few switches and then gets up to open a small panel in the ceiling of the jet.  Reaching in, he gets a hold of a thick bundle of wires and jerks it out with a low grunt.  A few sparks shoot from inside the panel, but nothing else happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have a phone, do you?”  Steve asks Bucky as he pulls the back cover from his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”  Bucky shakes his head.  He can see that Steve’s devastated by Tony Stark’s refusal to allow them to take shelter in Avengers Tower, but Bucky’s not surprised.  He doesn’t know what Sam’s or Clint’s stories are, but he’s pretty confident the only people in the world who don’t want to kill him are on this plane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While everyone but Bucky pulls the batteries and cards from their phones, Bucky looks forlornly at Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to do this.  Don’t wreck your life because of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not just you.  It’s complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really.  I am what he said.  A terrorist.  An assassin.  Helping me is a crime, Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t give a shit!”  Bucky recoils from the sudden vehemence in Steve’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know you knew that word, pal,” Bucky grins softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, let’s get something straight, all right?  You and me, we’ve known each other our whole lives.  You’re the best friend I ever had, and everything that happened to you, that was my fault.  Maybe not Zola, but everything that happened after.  I’m the one who let you fall from that train.  I wasn’t strong enough, or fast enough—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, that’s not—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what they made you do, Buck.  I know what they did to you, and all of that is on me.  Every bit of it.  So you know what?  If I have to wreck my life to help you, then so be it.  It’ll never come close to what I’ve done to yours.  So I don’t wanna hear it, okay?  You always were such a self-sacrificing martyr, takin’ care of me when I was sick, goin’ without food so I could eat… well, it’s my turn, Buck.  You got that?  It’s my fucking turn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither Clint nor Sam dares breathe.  They’ve heard Steve give plenty of speeches before, but this… outside of a battle, Steve Rogers rarely gives vent to the volatile temper they all know simmers just below the surface every moment of his life.  And this white-hot fury coming out of nowhere is a level of anger they’ve almost never seen from him.  Not to mention that shouting into the face of The Winter Soldier – </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially in an enclosed space thirty-five thousand feet in the air, Steve </span>
  </em>
  <span>– doesn’t seem like a great strategic move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Bucky?  Bucky just laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, Stevie, she’s prob’ly been dead for eighty years, but I wouldn’t put it past Sister Perpetua to resurrect herself just to crack you across the knuckles for that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which surprises a laugh out of Steve that shuts down his anger like Bucky’s set off an EMP.  Just like that, he looks a little sheepish, if still angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam recovers before Clint does.  “Welp,” he says, “Hope you like the mountains, Bucky.  ‘Cause it looks like that’s where we’re goin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a long flight.  They’ll get noticed on radar if Clint goes supersonic, so they settle in.  Nobody says much of anything for the first hour or so.  Sam sitting in the cockpit with Clint, mostly to give Bucky room, but also to take over for him if he gets sleepy.  Every once in a while, one of them makes a comment to the other.  There’s some quiet laughing, but mostly silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cabin is lit only by the glow of the cockpit controls, and small orange-red lights placed to give just enough illumination to move around safely.  Steve tries not to stare at Bucky, but it’s hard to keep his eyes off of him.  Especially because Bucky is openly staring at Steve.  After a while, Steve gets too uncomfortable to keep quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, Buck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna talk or anything?  We don’t have to, just… we could.  If you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve eventually has to conclude that Bucky’s silence means he doesn’t want to talk.  He leans his head back and crosses his arms, thinking it might help Bucky relax if Steve shows his trust by trying to sleep a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What mountains?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so quiet, Steve isn’t sure he hears it.  “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said mountains.  What mountains?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.  The Rockies.  There’s a cabin.  Completely isolated, totally off the grid.  Guy who built it was one of those doomsday guys.  Always preparing for the end of the world?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky cocks an eyebrow.  He has no clue what Steve’s talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway…”  Even Steve knows now’s not the time to start chatting about the Cold War, especially with Bucky, of all people.  Steve’s read those files.  “It’s completely self-sufficient and impossible to find without precise directions.  Unapproachable unless you’re invited.  You’ll be safe there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whose cabin is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve blushes a little.  “It’s mine, actually.  The guy went a little off his rocker and tried to steal Air Force One.  After the noise died down, I bought it.  Well, some fake guy named Grant Buchanan bought it through about seven layers of dummy corporations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s eyes widen just a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.  I pay way too much attention to Stark when he talks about security.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A secret hideout,” Bucky says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve understands that it’s kind of a question.  He also understands what Bucky’s asking.  He looks away, saying softly, “I haven’t had to hide for my safety like you have.  At least so far,” Steve adds with a rueful roll of his eyes.  Who knows what’s about to come his way under the damned Sokovia Accords?  “It’s just that, sometimes the Captain America thing, living in the future… it all gets to be a little too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s expressive face shows that something’s occurred to him.  “Won’t Stark come looking for you there?  Or send someone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Steve says, coloring a little and looking shamefaced.  “He doesn’t know about it.  I didn’t tell anyone.  I only told Sam and Clint when they agreed to help me get you home.  I don’t know why.  I guess everybody thinks they know so much about me, I wanted something that was just mine.  Somewhere I knew nobody could find me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky goes silent for a while, continuing to look at Steve.  He’s clearly considering what Steve’s just said.  It’s hard to make out his expression in the dim light.  Again, Steve lowers his head to rest against his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant Buchanan, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve grins at Bucky’s softly-spoken question, but doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head.  “Not very creative, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments of thought, Steve stirs to look at Bucky.  “It was before I knew you were alive.  But I used your name because you were never very far from my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks down, letting his hair hide his face.  He nods, and takes a long time to reply.  “They took… I, um… I didn’t remember anything for a long time.  I tried to resist, but—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, jeez, I know that.  You think I blame you for not remembering?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, pal, I’m just glad you’re safe.  That’s all that matters.  If you don’t remember me, that’s fine.  I’ll tell you everything you’ve forgotten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t forget,” Bucky spits, low and angry.  “They took it all.  Even my name.  Everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a moment, rolling his shoulders a little and breathing deeply.  When he’s slowly let his breath out and seems to have calmed himself after the sudden flare of anger, he looks Steve in the eye and repeats softly, “I didn’t forget.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Buck.”  And Steve does know.  Steve knows not only the unspeakable things the Russians and Hydra did to steal Bucky’s self from him, but how desperately, and for how long, Bucky resisted.  He wept reading those files, the cold clinical language describing Bucky’s defiance and the inhuman tortures he suffered because of his refusal to submit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you didn’t forget,” Steve assures him, every ounce of grief and pride he feels evident in his voice.  “Neither did I.  That’s all I’m sayin’.  And now that you’re here, I’ll help you get back everything they took.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve endures long minutes of silent scrutiny as Bucky continues to study him intensely, looking for whatever it is he needs in order to believe Steve’s words.  Steve simply looks back, allowing it despite the discomfort of Bucky’s scrutiny.  Finally, Bucky nods almost imperceptibly and whispers so quietly only a supersoldier would have heard it over the Quinjet’s engines, “Yeah.  Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s cabin is every bit as remote and inaccessible as he’d said it was.  In fact, even with the clear late-morning light and Clint’s extraordinary vision, Steve has to guide him in.  Clint pilots the Quinjet to a tiny clearing several hundred yards from the cabin, so small the jet breaks limbs off of several trees as it lands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before it does, Steve explains to Bucky that they are going to have to move fast, tossing every item they’ve brought with them to the ground under the canopy of trees as quickly as they can.  There’s a massive camouflage net stored just outside the clearing, which they’ll use to cover the Quinjet before concealing it further with debris from the surrounding forest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t expect you to be part of that.  You just do whatever you want.  Go check out the cabin, or just watch, or whatever.  We’ll deal with the supplies.  You just do whatever you’re comfortable with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky says nothing, just nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just, um… promise me something, will ya’, Buck?  Just please don’t leave.  Please.  ‘Cause honest to God, I don’t think I could take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods again, a thoughtful expression on his face.  “That notebook.  You still got that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”  Steve starts to move, but Bucky stops him with a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve stays seated.  “Made sure I grabbed it.  Seemed like it might’ve been important to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is.  I won’t leave without it.  So you hang onto it for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, I don’t need—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I do.  Okay?  You keep it.  So I won’t run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sighs and nods reluctantly.  “Okay, Buck.  If that’s what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Bucky doesn’t respond, only nods minutely.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they land, it takes a matter of minutes to get the Quinjet unloaded, even though they’ve brought a lot of supplies.  Covering it takes a little longer, but they don’t see any aircraft overhead before the plane is disguised.  The way Sam and Clint see it, any satellite watching them unload and hide the jet has probably been tracking them since long before they landed, so there’s no point in worrying about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the Quinjet is taken care of, they turn to the task of ferrying supplies to the cabin.  When they do, they see that Bucky’s apparently been doing that while they’ve been camouflaging the Quinjet, because over half the supplies are already gone.  Given Steve’s extraordinary capacity as a pack mule, what’s left can be hauled the quarter-mile to the cabin in one trip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice,” Clint comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles quietly, thinking how like Bucky it was to find a way to contribute, even though he wasn’t ready to work directly with the rest of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam reserves judgment.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The house is larger than the word “cabin” had suggested.  Bucky had thought he knew what to expect, but this is no дача such as the ones to which The Soldat had occasionally been sent to eliminate some low-level party member or junior Hydra functionary.  Steve’s cabin is more like the госдача of an elite party member or other VIP.  Especially during the Soviet days, The Soldat had his share of missions to those, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the ground floor, the support pillars are whole tree trunks, the bark removed and the wood smoothed and varnished.  There is a huge river rock fireplace with a rough-hewn wooden mantel that looks to be the same wood as the exposed beams in the high ceilings.  Bucky finds it beautiful, but the massive, open living space is far too exposed for comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does a quick recon of the ground floor and sees that there’s a large office, a half-bath, a bedroom with a full bath, and a sizeable, flagstone-floored mudroom leading to a rear door.  Outside the rear door is a huge, covered deck that wraps around two sides of the cabin.  The daylight basement features another bedroom and bath, a laundry area, and a vast amount of storage.  Much of the storage area is filled with stacked, nonperishable food, whole shelves of first aid supplies, and other survival necessities.  The cabin is large enough to have five bedrooms on a second floor, each with a cathedral ceiling featuring exposed, rough-hewn beams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has time to make two trips hauling supplies before he sees that the others are completing their task of hiding the jet.  He leaves the supplies in a large pile just outside the thick front door to the cabin.  When Steve, Sam, and Clint reach the cabin, he is nowhere to be found, although his backpack is just inside the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve calls for Bucky as he brings in his first load of supplies.  Hearing no response, he takes in a breath to call again, but Sam puts a hand on his arm.  “Don’t.  I know you want to hang with him.  I get that, I do.  It’s legit, with what he means to you and all you’ve both been through.  But for now, give him some space.  He’s here.  Let that be enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s clear in Steve’s posture, his expression, even the way he’s holding the crates of perishable food that he doesn’t want to follow Sam’s advice.  To his credit, he simply sighs and carries his massive armload into the cabin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get all of the supplies inside and stored without any of them seeing Bucky.  When they’re done, Steve makes a circuit of the ground floor, looking out all the windows.  When he comes back to the foot of the open, wooden staircase, he finds Sam standing on the first step, leaning casually on the wrought-iron railing.  Steve doesn’t like the pity in his eyes.  “What if he’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cap.  You said he promised to stay, his backpack is here, and you have that notebook he said he won’t leave without, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you trust the guy, or do you not?  Because going after him the minute you can’t see him doesn’t really read like trust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying you trust him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell, no.  I never said I did.  Doubt he cares, either.  But you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, Clint comes around one of the massive tree-trunk pillars from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his pants.  “Besides, Cap, Sam may be too nice to say it, but I’m not.  We’ve been unpacking for half an hour.  If he left when we started?  He’s already gone.  We all know what he’s capable of.  No way we catch him now.  Might as well relax.  I’m goin’ to catch a few hours’ sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all decide that a nap’s a good idea, and agree to meet up for dinner.  Steve doesn’t expect to sleep, but he hopes he’ll doze.  Anything to get over the horribly anxious, impatient, deeply unsatisfied feeling of having Bucky right here, yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes to the master bedroom (because it’s his cabin, doggone it) and washes up a little, puts on sweats and a T-shirt, and lays down on top of the quilt.  He’s surprised when he wakes up, to find that he slept deeply.  But he’s damp with cold sweat, his heart racing.  Another damn nightmare.  No one comes running, so he hopes either he didn’t shout in his sleep, or they’re all too sound asleep to hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not getting back to sleep, so he decides to go start dinner.  On the way, he notices that two of the bedrooms on this floor have their doors closed.  He assumes those are the rooms Sam and Clint have chosen.  He looks into the other two bedrooms.  No Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops to look down into the living area from the little loft that overlooks it, and from which the stairs descend.  Bucky’s not in the living area or the kitchen.  He goes downstairs and looks into the office and the bedroom on that floor.  Bucky’s not there, either.  Steve shoots a guilty look up at the loft, beyond which is the hallway to the room where Sam is currently napping, before descending the stairs to the basement.  No Bucky there, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t stop himself from circling the perimeter of the house and checking the large deck, but he doesn’t see Bucky.  Letting himself back into the cabin to start dinner, he sighs.  He’s fully aware that, even if he was looking right at Bucky at some point in his totally-not-a-search-just-checking-things-out, he wouldn’t see him if Bucky didn’t want to be seen.   He can’t help it.  It hurts.  He’s theoretically in the same house with Bucky and here he is, missing him.  Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sets a place for Bucky at the heavy wooden table, but isn’t surprised when he doesn’t appear.  Still, Sam and Clint are entertaining enough to prevent him from moping through quite the entire meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner, Sam and Steve make a nice fire in the rock fireplace and kick back with beers to watch one of the hundreds of movies left behind by the previous owner.  Sam makes Steve laugh as he goes through the library of titles, a large percentage of which are definitely films neither of them would have chosen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint, though, needs some alone time.  He often does.  They know where he is, though, because he gave them a mock salute before jumping up to grab the edge of the porch roof and swinging himself easily up and out of sight.  He nimbly climbs his way up to the peak of the cabin roof and rests his back against the stone chimney, then lights a cheroot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes his time with it.  It’s almost an hour later when he finishes and stands to toss the end into the chimney.  He stretches, taking in a huge lungful of the clean, pine-scented evening air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was thinking of goin’ down,” Clint says in a conversational tone, purposely not looking directly at where he knows Bucky is perched, comfortable in a nice eyrie in a blue spruce.  It’s a perfect spot.  Clint approves.  Good visibility of almost the entire house, and he thinks you can probably see the entire living area and kitchen through the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re watching movies.  Unless you wanted to hang a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint waits several minutes, just looking around, appreciating the beauty of this remote, private place.  It’s too dark to see far, but the air is filled with the smells of nature and the comforting scent of the woodsmoke coming from the chimney.  Eventually, he shrugs and walks confidently down the opposite side of the roof from where Bucky is.  With an impressive leap, Clint catches a thick cottonwood branch and swings gymnastically from branch to branch until he finally lets go about ten feet from the ground to land lightly on his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he turns around to face the back door of the house, Clint finds Bucky standing there in the darkness, silhouetted against the warm light streaming out from the windows.  It takes every ounce of control Clint has not to scream like Homer Simpson with his nuts caught in his zipper.  He simply nods casually, then stands and waits for Bucky to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A full minute passes before Clint says, in a voice only a supersoldier standing five feet away would hear, “Comin’ in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, painfully, Bucky makes himself speak.  He sounds like he’s facing a firing squad.  “What gave me away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint smiles reassuringly, purposely relaxing his posture.  “Not a damn thing, man.  It’s just, they don’t call me Hawkeye for nothing.  Not to be a vain asshole, but nobody else coulda seen you.  Besides, I got me some kick-ass hearing aids.  Stark tech.  I can hear gnats fucking with these bad boys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds distracting,” Bucky says.  He’s trying to seem casual.  Clint’s not fooled, but he does see Bucky’s rigid muscles relax ever-so-slightly.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, this poor fuck’s wound tight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You learn how to filter.  If you got hearing like Steve, you know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was actually kinda jealous of your spot.  Excellent choice.  Might steal that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bucky doesn’t say anything more, Clint shrugs.  “Well.  Goin’ in.  I’ll keep quiet about seeing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the near-darkness, Clint sees Bucky grimace a little.  “Steve worried?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was the Red Skull a douchebag?  Yeah, he’s worried.  We can handle him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s shoulders sag just a bit.  “Go ahead and tell him you saw me,” he sighs.  “Don’t say where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got it.  Need anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t mind one of those smokes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll kill ya’,” Clint grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I got the fuckin’ superjuice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint chuckles quietly, relieved to hear a little life in Bucky’s voice.  He pulls another cheroot from his jacket pocket and hands it to Bucky, along with a disposable lighter.  Clint takes a couple strides toward the stairs to the porch, then turns to say goodnight.  Bucky’s nowhere in sight.  Even with Clint’s Stark tech hearing aids, he hadn’t heard the tiniest sound.  </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Дача </span>
  <span> Dacha, or Russian country house, typically a weekend or vacation house outside the city</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Госдача </span>
  <span> Gosdacha, or state-owned Russian vacation house for use by VIPs</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Clint and Sam help Steve get Bucky out of Romania, but Tony refuses to help them protect Bucky.  Which means they're on the run from the Avengers, too.  They end up at a safe house in the U.S. - a large but remote cabin in the Rocky Mountains.  Steve finally has Bucky with him but is dismayed to find that, in many ways, he's still gone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. One True Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trigger warning:  mentions of eating disorder</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The hideous skeleton/insect face of the Chitauri is grimacing with its massive teeth.  Steve guesses that’s supposed to be a self-satisfied smile.  The creature holds a long, jagged knife with blood already dripping from the blade, the tip of which is about an inch from Steve’s left eye.  The horrible, wet choking noise it’s making is probably what laughter would sound like if you were a disgusting half-machine alien with an unfortunate overabundance of saliva.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The shield isn’t in Steve’s hands.  In fact, Steve doesn’t have hands.  Or arms.  All he can do is struggle against the Chitauri’s chokehold, but even that is minimally effective because Steve’s legs are all but unresponsive.  Heavy and sluggish, like Tony’s filled each one with a thousand pounds of that putrid gunk he accidentally invented when he tried to improve jell-o.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s about to die, which isn’t the problem.  Not really.  The problem is that, just behind the Chitauri, Bucky stands watching Steve struggle, his face empty of any interest or emotion.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bucky, help me!  Please, you know me!  You’re Bucky Barnes.  I know you’re in there.  Do something!  Please, Buck, help me!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky says Steve’s name, soft and low.  Which is weird, because his mouth doesn’t move.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Chitauri screeches and jabs forward with the knife.  Steve screams, “Bucky!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong><em>*       </em> <em>*       </em> <em>*</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as the blade plunges into Steve’s face, his eyes open wide.  He hears himself screaming for Bucky as he bolts upright in the bed, flailing his arms.  It’s a moment before he can stop shouting.  He’s gasping for breath, hand to his chest like he’s trying to convince his heart to remain on the inside of his rib cage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears Bucky say his name, exactly as he had in the dream, and startles so hard it actually hurts.  Looking up, Steve sees that the overhead lights have been turned on, and Bucky is standing at the corner of his bed, far enough away that Steve didn’t hit him when he woke swinging.  Again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buck!”  Steve gasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re all right,” Bucky says gently.  “Just breathe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was… you were…”  Steve can’t finish, both because he’s trying to catch his breath, and because he doesn’t want to.  Describing the nightmare would just make it more real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay, pal.  Just a dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck!”  Steve hisses viciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky smirks a little, but says nothing, just stands silently next to him as Steve struggles to calm down.  It’s always a little funny when Steve swears.  It just looks wrong on him.  But everything else about this is painful to watch.  Steve’s sweating and shivering at the same time, hands fisted in his hair as he shakes his head like he can rattle the images out of it.  Bucky knows the feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Bucky’s struggling with his own inner turmoil at the moment.  He knows the kind of nightmares that wake a guy up screaming.  He has plenty of fuel for that shit.  But Steve… it does something to Bucky to see Steve like this.  Steve’s the strong one.  He’s always been the strong one, even when he was five foot four and weighed ninety-five pounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What’s he been through to do this to him?  Bucky feels sick as it hits him.  He’s not the only one who’s fucked up – Steve apparently is, too.  And he wonders just how bad it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t know whether he can help Steve.  But he knows in this instant that he’s willing to die trying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders how much of Steve’s distress is seeing</span>
  <em>
    <span> him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Realizing that he’s such a fucking mess he can’t even be in this stupidly huge house with a mere three other people, who he knows aren’t a threat.  He hates himself for the pain he knows he caused Steve by falling from that train, and for the pain he’s causing now by having survived.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a full five minutes before Steve sighs heavily and scoots up in the bed to collapse against the headboard.  He looks up at Bucky through thick eyelashes and forces a fake laugh.  “So that’s what I gotta do to get you to spend time with me, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky ignores that.  “Better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  A little.”  Steve has to think about how to phrase the question.  “What are you doing up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heard you yelling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Might wanna save that.  It’ll be my turn next.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, too?”  Steve asks sheepishly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stinks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighs and runs his hands through his hair again.  Now that he’s a little calmer, it occurs to him that Bucky’s here, standing next to his bed.  For a second, he actually thinks about making more of his nightmare than he wants to, just so Bucky will stay.  But he can’t do it.  “I’m okay, Buck.  You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky shrugs again.  “Got nowhere else to be just now.  I can stay, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to keep you up or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit, Rogers, quit bein’ so fuckin’ polite.  I may be messed up, but it’s still me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess I just don’t wanna spook you, is all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the one who’s spooked at the moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve gives an anemic grin.  “Nah, I’m all right.  But jeez, Buck, you got no idea how bad I missed you.  If you’re offerin’, I’d love for you to stay a little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky sits carefully down on the edge of Steve’s bed.  “Go wash up.  And put on a dry shirt.  You’re shiverin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still takin’ care of me, huh, Buck?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky blinks at that.  “Did I…”  He looks down, brow furrowed in thought.  “I feel like I used to do that a lot, huh?  When you were smaller?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not only then.  In the war, too.”  Steve looks wistfully at Bucky for a moment before getting up to go into his bathroom.  He tosses his damp T-shirt on the counter and uses a warm washcloth to rinse his clammy skin.  When he comes back out, Bucky is still staring blindly at the quilt, eyebrows knit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bucky?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks up as though surprised to find himself in the present.  “You… you got sick a lot.  Something…  You couldn’t breathe right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Asthma.  Not to mention I pretty much always had a cold.  Spent a lot of time sick in bed.  You’d sit with me.  Read to me.  Sometimes, if I wasn’t too bad, you’d read and I’d draw somethin’ about the story.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Astounding…” Bucky trails off, trying to remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Astounding Stories of Super Science!”  Steve laughs, going to pull a clean T-shirt from a drawer.  “Yeah!  And Doc Savage.  We loved him.  Wanted to be him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I kinda remember that.  A little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeez, even when I wasn’t sick, you were like a mother hen.  You’d make me wear a coat when it wasn’t even cold.  You were worse than our moms ever were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky looks up to see Steve, bare-chested and smiling.  It feels like that smile radiates into him, warming Bucky somewhere down deep that’s been frozen for a very long time.  He realizes he’s staring a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn, Stevie, look at you,” he says, as mockingly as he can manage.  “I don’t remember much, but I know you didn’t use to be such a dreamboat.  Get a load of the chest on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve blushes deep, puts on the fresh T-shirt and sits back in bed, leaning against the headboard.  “Hey.  You hear yourself?  You seem a lot more comfortable than you were on the plane.  You doin’ better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’M okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.  I’m glad, Bucky.  You’re still dressed, though.  Were you in bed?  Did you pick a room?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Downstairs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By the kitchen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, the other one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the basement?  You heard me from all the way down there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Light sleeper.  And you ain’t exactly quiet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clint and Sam didn’t wake up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess they didn’t grow up listenin’ for you to need something when you were sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles that smile again, shaking his head.  “You’re not supposed to be taking care of me, dummy.  I’m supposed to be rescuing you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s face, which has been serious the entire time they’ve been talking, gets even more so as he forces himself to look directly at Steve.  “You did, pal.  You are.  Guess I ain’t been too grateful, huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, Buck.  I don’t need you to be polite any more than you need me to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s prob’ly good.  Not sure I know how anymore.”  He grins a little, but it’s weak and only lasts a second.  Then he drops his eyes and his voice is almost a whisper.  “I’m a wreck, Steve.  You may be sorry you found me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sits up quickly, that instant temper flaring.  “I didn’t do it for me, Buck.  I did it for you.  Long as nobody’s hurtin’ you, or makin’ you do stuff you don’t wanna do, I’ll never be sorry.  Even if you never remember another damn thing.  Even if you come to hate me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve, I don’t think you got any idea what kinda things I’ve done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know enough.  SHIELD’s recovered a lot of files in the Hydra bases we’ve wiped out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that.  Most of him wants to scream and scrub whatever filth Steve’s seen right out of his mind.  But another part wants to challenge his high-minded ideals.  Tell him some of the gruesome details.  Tell him about killing Howard and Maria Stark with his bare hands.  Let him know what Bucky is now, so he won’t damn his own soul with all of Bucky’s sins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?  What if I hurt more people?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Depends on who they are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s head jerks up in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I learned some things about myself while I was lookin’ for you, Bucky.  I’m not the same guy, either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I read every file we’ve recovered.  I know names, dates…  Maybe not everything, but I know a lot.  And even knowing all of that, I still did some things I’m not particularly proud of tryin’ to find you.  ‘Cause the thing I learned is, it doesn’t matter what they made you do.  No matter what, I’d have done whatever it took to get you back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve, no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.  I also know a lot about what they did.  To you.  So if you hurt more people, and it’s what’s left of Hydra?  I won’t be sorry.  I’ll be proud.  And this time, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> be the guy at </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> six.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky stands, recoiling from Steve’s words.  “Fuck, Steve, you think that’s what I wanna hear?  That the most principled guy I ever knew is willing to drown himself in blood because of me?  Maybe already has?”  He’s pacing now, his words low but pressured.  “That’s why you shouldn’ta found me, don’t you get it?  Someone like you shouldn’t be anywhere near me.  And now you’re tellin’ me I already sullied you, just by bein’ alive.  No, Steve, I won’t be responsible for—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the hell up, Buck.  Just shut up, huh?  Sit back down and listen to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Long before they were Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, Bucky was obeying that commanding tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits heavily on the side of Steve’s bed, and Steve reaches over to grab the closest part of him, which happens to be his left wrist.  Bucky flinches, just a little, but Steve ignores it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look.  I got no idea what you do or don’t remember.  Not yet.  This is the first time we’ve sat down and talked in over seventy years.  But there’s one true thing in my life, Bucky, and that’s you.  Always was, always will be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said it yourself.  Seventy years—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seven hundred wouldn’t change it.  Seven thousand.  And I’ll tell you something else.  If what you know about me is from that museum, then you’re in for a surprise when you do remember.  ‘Cause that guy?  The one they say I am?  They left out some stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both men seem to realize at the same time that Steve’s holding Bucky’s wrist.  They look down, but instead of awkwardly letting go, Steve turns Bucky’s hand over in his.  He looks at it, touching it with the fingers of his other hand for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks up and says, surprisingly quietly, “This okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky shrugs absently, thoughts turned much more to what Steve’s said than to what he’s doing with Bucky’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you feel with it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bucky grunts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems to work pretty good, if my face after the helicarrier is any indication.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’S actually pretty great.  Sorry about your face, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You also shot me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You let me,” Bucky murmurs quickly, with a ghost of his old mockery, then looks up somewhere near the direction of Steve’s face.  “There were some trigger words.  Or, I thought that’s what they were.  You said, ‘I’m with you-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Til the end of the line,” Steve finishes with him.  He smiles with a sad kind of hope.  “Yeah.  It’s what you said to me the day of my mom’s funeral.  And I said it back to you on the day we buried yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s forehead creases in concentration, trying to remember.  “I don’t remember her.  Not at all.  I looked them up once, online.  My family.  I found one picture.  There was a boy in it, who I guess is me, but I don’t remember any of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember you, though.  A little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Makes sense.  We were together all the time.  Hey, you got a headache?  You keep rubbing your head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happens when I try to remember stuff.  I guess it’s all in there still, but it’s so hard to get to.  And the stuff on top of it is… not good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sets Bucky’s metal hand gently down on the bed.  “We don’t gotta talk about the past.  Or anything else you don’t want to.  We could just talk about nice stuff for a while.  I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky nods with another weak attempt at a grin.  He hasn’t sat with anyone, just to talk, since 1944.  He’s pretty sure his conversations with The Soldat don’t count.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the next hour, they sit and talk quietly.  Steve loses count of the number of times he tells Bucky how good it is to see him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam, being Sam, is up bright and early cooking breakfast.  He starts to worry that he will have to wake the others up, until Bucky stumbles up the stairs into the kitchen.  Sam continues what he was doing, letting Bucky decide how to handle it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Morning,” Bucky mumbles, beginning to look through cupboards for a mug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning.  Far left cupboard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky finds a mug and pours himself a cup of coffee.  “Thanks.  Smells great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam makes an indefinable noise of acknowledgement and Bucky goes to stand in the huge main room, watching Sam from several feet away with the counter between them.  “I should, uh, thank you.  For what you did for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Sam answers.  “Gotta admit, I did it mostly for Steve.  But what happened to you, that’s some bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And, um… what I did to you, on the helicarrier… I’m glad you’re okay.  Glad your wings are okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam turns to look at Bucky.  “I did shoot at you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well.  No tellin’ how long we’re gonna be here, or what’ll happen.  I suppose we oughtta get past it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.  I owe you.  I’ll make it right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” Sam says, grinning.  “We gonna be some kinda friends now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hope not,” Bucky answers, and Sam’s surprise registers in his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I didn’t see you take on a chopper?  One suicidal dumbass in my life is enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam smiles broadly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve is the next to appear.  He looks annoyingly alert and rested.  He seems a little surprised to see Bucky standing in the main room, but says nothing except “good morning.”  He claps a friendly hand on Sam’s shoulder and then goes in search of a mug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Far left cupboard,” Sam says automatically, as he’s sliding a large skillet full of fluffy scrambled eggs into a bowl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smells great, Sam.  Waking to the smell of good breakfast beats the heck out of an alarm clock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.  I expect to enjoy that experience tomorrow morning, when you cook.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiles widely and claps him on the shoulder again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something churns inside Bucky’s chest watching that.  The smile makes Steve’s face shine with an inner light and his vivid blue eyes sparkle.  Bucky’s still getting used to Steve looking like that, he supposes.  It’s not like his eyes weren’t always that color, and his smile hasn’t changed.  They did fight Hydra together for a year in Europe before Bucky fell, and that was after Steve became a human fortress.  So it isn’t that Bucky’s never seen him tall and strong and gorgeous.  It probably just feels this new because Bucky’s memory’s a shambles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t really have a good explanation about why he feels a little jealous of the easy camaraderie between Steve and Sam.  But that’s probably Hydra’s fault, too.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam’s easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bucky thinks.</span>
  <em>
    <span>  Steve knows Sam won’t lose his shit if Steve touches him.  Sam didn’t have to go hide in a tree for hours when they got here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Breakfast is informal and fairly quiet.  The table is huge and heavy, made of distressed wood that fits the overall rough, relaxed feel of the cabin.  All four men drink coffee and do little more than grunt.  It’s still difficult for Bucky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one is fooled by his apparent politeness as he waits for everyone to serve themselves and have a seat so that he can choose the seat farthest from the rest of them.  Sam’s actually impressed that he is even able to be at the table, rather than needing to be in another room, or even outside.  It’s a good sign, even if Bucky’s eyes constantly flit furtively between them and his tense, still posture and bowed head say that he expects his plate to be snatched from him any moment.  He eats more quickly than even Clint does, and Clint is an animal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam has set a plate of buttered toast in the middle of the table (an entire loaf of bread, actually, because he’s seen Steve eat).  When he sees that Bucky’s finished everything on his plate, Sam pushes the toast toward him.  “Have some more toast.  There’s lots more eggs and potatoes, here, too.  You hardly took anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of the other men know why that’s a frightening thing to say, but it’s obvious from the look that comes into Bucky’s eyes that it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky stands and picks up his plate.  “I’m fine.  Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bucky?”  Steve says.  Sam flashes him a warning look, but when Bucky doesn’t answer and continues on into the kitchen, Steve says, a little louder, “You know, I usually eat about three times more than everyone else.  It’s kinda hard to keep up with how many calories I need, actually.  If you’re like that, you’re definitely welcome to eat more.  I’m going to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Bucky stays in the kitchen, rinsing his plate, Steve takes a breath to say something else, and utters a stifled “Uhgh” instead as Sam pokes his fork into the back of Steve’s hand.  With a fierce look, Sam shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky comes to stand on the other side of the kitchen counter, looking across it to the table.  The table is set to one side of the big main room of the cabin, which Steve’s been calling the great room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I kinda need some exercise.  Noticed your woodpile’s not very big.  I could cut some, if that’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looks to Sam before speaking.  When Sam shows no indication of intending to impale him with any more silverware, he answers.  “That’s a great idea, actually.  I was thinking of doin’ that myself.  After breakfast, we could go out together, pick a tree to cut.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Kay,” Bucky says, nodding.  He actually looks like he’d have preferred to do the job alone, but no one offers that.  Clint’s too busy shoving heaping forkfuls of food into his head, and Sam wants to see what Bucky will do.  Steve just wants to spend time with Bucky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky waits patiently, cleaning until he can find nothing further to do in the kitchen, then simply standing in the kitchen sipping another cup of coffee.  Steve invites him twice to come sit down, reminding him that there is more food if he wants it, but he declines both times.  Nobody at the table has a good feeling about that, intuitively guessing they don’t want to know the reason.  When they finish eating, each of them carries dishes into the kitchen to set them on the counter.  There’s no food left except for one piece of toast, which Sam catches Bucky eyeing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barnes, you oughtta eat that last piece of toast,” he says casually, purposely looking at the condiments he’s returning to their storage places rather than at Bucky.  “Shame to let it go to waste.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky looks at Steve and Clint.  “Go ahead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve makes a show of patting his belly.  “Full.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me, too,” Clint says.  “I’m gonna go scout around a little.  See what’s what.  I’d like to find someplace we can do some target shooting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Clint leaves the kitchen toward the back door, Bucky says, “I’ll do the dishes.  You guys go ahead and do whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want help?”  Sam asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”  Bucky catches the slight edge to his voice as he says it.  “Just… better on my own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam nods slightly in acknowledgement and heads into the great room.  When he’s out of the kitchen, Bucky moves from where he’d been pressed back against a wall, trying to make himself small, and starts on the dishes.  Steve hems and haws, noticing that Bucky stands at an oblique angle, keeping him and Sam in sight.  Bucky looks up.  “I got this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, okay.  I’ll just, um, go out to the equipment shed and get some tree-cutting stuff.  Make sure the axe is sharp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t eat the last piece of toast until it’s obvious no one else will, and he is certain that no one is watching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve goes into the equipment shed that makes up a portion of the daylight basement level of the cabin.  It has a separate outside entrance as well as an entrance from the basement, and is full of the usual maintenance-type tools like saws, a chainsaw, and axes.  There’s a large workbench on which he sets his two largest axes before going to work with a whetstone.  It feels kind of good to be doing something with his hands, and he’s looking forward to the hard physical labor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much more than that, though, he’s looking forward to spending time with Bucky.  It’s almost too good to believe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks about the last time he was in the woods with Bucky, which would have been somewhere in Europe in 1944.  The thought leads him to remember the way Bucky had looked and sounded, murmuring his name, rank, and serial number while he lay, delirious and alone, strapped to that table in Zola’s cursed lab.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky was exhausted and terrified.  Afraid to believe that he was really being rescued, and especially that he was being rescued by an unfathomably tall, muscular version of his best friend.  Steve remembers the smile on Bucky’s face when he’d recognized Steve – he has to have replayed that moment in his head at least a million times.  Bucky had taken Steve’s transformation remarkably in stride at the time.  He’d sort of had to; they still had to get out of the factory, which was in the midst of a prisoner revolt (courtesy of Captain America) and, oh yeah, being consumed by a raging fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve remembers the march from the Hydra weapons factory at Krausberg where Bucky had been held captive, back to Allied territory.  He can almost feel the miserable, wet air of that night and the next day, marching at the speed of the slowest soldier to escort the remains of the 107th and the other captives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve thinks back to the way Bucky had looked on that long walk back to safety.  Thin, tired, and beat up, but holding his weapon with the easy grace of a man to whom it was so familiar it was basically an extension of his body.  Steve had been so damn proud, walking at the head of that line with Sergeant Barnes of the 107th, already well-known for his skill as a sniper and looking every inch the seasoned soldier.  He remembers convincing himself that he was puffing out his chest because he was so proud to finally be helping in the war effort, to be side by side with the soldier Bucky had become.  He definitely wasn’t doing it so that Bucky would be impressed with the size of that chest.  No.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that point, he hadn’t seen Bucky in almost a year.  They’d both been through some things by then.  Maybe it was forgivable that Steve chalked Bucky’s new seriousness up to the evils of war and his time as a POW.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky had waited until they were back in Azzano before laying into Steve for volunteering for Project Rebirth.  Steve remembers how furious Bucky had been, lashing out at the recklessness of what he’d done, and the inexcusable risk he’d taken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck do you think woulda happened to me if I’d made it through this hell only to get home and find you gone?  Huh?  Did you even, for one second, think about that?  Did you think about who would look after my sisters if we both got killed?  With my folks gone, you said you’d watch over them for me!  What the hell, Steve, I wasn’t even out of New York harbor before you broke every promise you made!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> die, though, Buck!  It worked, and now I’m here – we’re here together – and I can finally do my part.  You know that means everything to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I see that now.  It means more than me, or my family, or even your stupid life!  As long as Steve gets to go fight the Axis and Hydra bullies, then it’s all just swell!  Except what happens to my sisters if both of us get blown to hell, huh?  I didn’t have to worry about them, or you, because you were safe back home.  But now—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bucky, that’s not fair——”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coulda done plenty to help the war effort from Brooklyn.  But no, not Stevie.  Oh, hell, no, he’s gotta get himself inflated into some kinda King Kong version of himself so he can go running – alone, mind you – into a damn Hydra factory!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, Buck—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aaaugh!  You’re every bit as fuckin’ stupid as you ever were, only now you ain’t just takin’ on some bruiser in a back alley.  Oh, no.  Now you wanna get the shit kicked outta you by an entire army!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky had stormed out of their tent then, red-faced and wild-eyed, leaving Steve to sputter uselessly with no chance to defend himself.  But oh, how he had smiled, sitting there on the side of his bunk in the cold damp.  Getting yelled at by Bucky again had felt more like home than anything had since the minute he’d been strapped into Howard Stark’s Vita-Ray machine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you and that axe wanna be alone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve jumps and drops the whetstone he’s been using, whirling around to see Bucky standing behind him wearing an echo of his old, mocking grin.  Either Steve had really been concentrating or Bucky made about as much noise as a cloud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Way you’re smilin’ at that axe, rubbin’ it with that whetstone, seemed like maybe you two have a special relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve blushes so hard he’d probably glow in the dark and stammers, “No, I was… I was just thinkin’ about Azzano, and how you bawled me out for letting Dr. Erskine talk me into getting the serum.  You remember that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky squints for a second, trying to feel around for that memory, but then shakes his head.  “I remember bits and pieces from the war.  I remember you were small, and then you showed up wherever it was, big all of a sudden.  But I don’t remember how you got this way, just that I was sore ‘cause it was dangerous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Steve says, handing Bucky an axe.  “Let’s go pick out a tree, and I’ll tell you about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a nice couple of hours, tramping through the woods near the cabin.  They find a tree, already fallen from some recent storm, that should yield a good supply of firewood.  It also won’t leave a gap in the forest, visible from the air, with a nice, fresh-cut tree trunk in the middle, to suggest there are people here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two supersoldiers can cut a big tree into transportable logs pretty quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While they do, Steve tells Bucky stories from their time together during the war.  He keeps it to light, funny ones, though, about themselves and the Howling Commandos.  Bucky gets that headache look from time to time, but hearing the stories seems to be jump-starting the process of putting the shards of memory together in the right order.  As he does, the connective tissue between them begins to fill itself in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s different from his time alone in Eastern Europe, when he was being fed The Soldat’s memories and trying to recover his own from his time in captivity.  This goes much faster.  Bucky knows Steve’s steering clear of some of the more traumatic events of the war, because some of those float to the surface of their own accord.  Steve’s honest when Bucky asks about them, but he doesn’t offer much detail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are no trails through the forest, which means they cut the tree into logs they can carry back to the cabin.  Luckily, the loads they can each carry are massive, so it doesn’t take many trips.  On one trip, they reach the cabin to find Clint squatting on one of the logs.  He’s laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Had to see this for myself.  You realize those logs are bigger than you guys are, right?  You look like damn ants.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep it up and you’re chopping and splitting all this wood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, you’re not just gonna tear it into pieces with your bare hands?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam comes out to the porch to see what’s going on, just in time to see Bucky tilt to the side and let his burden fall to the ground beside the other logs.  He can feel the heavy thud in his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh.  Supersoldiers can come in handy.  Everybody oughtta get one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve glares at him and heads back into the woods with Bucky right behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the whole downed tree is lying next to the cabin, they use a chainsaw to cut the logs into rounds that can be split for firewood.  Setting the thickest rounds up as chopping blocks, they get to work.  Pretty soon, they’ve both gotten into a rhythm, and they simply chop and split, not conversing, just making comments from time to time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve wishes they’d chosen a bigger tree.  This moment with Bucky, working side by side with no danger threatening, feels just about perfect.  He turns his head every few minutes, just to look at Bucky and marvel again at the fact that he’s here.  Neither of them are perspiring much – it takes more than chopping wood to make a supersoldier really sweat – but it’s warm work.  Steve takes off the flannel overshirt he’s been wearing so he’s just in a T-shirt.  Bucky shucks both his Henley and the T-shirt underneath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which gives Steve his first look at the place where Bucky’s metal arm is attached.  He tries not to stare, but apparently fails, because Bucky reaches for his T-shirt, mumbling, “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!  Jeez, no, Buck, I’m not… it just looks like it hurts, is all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah.  Not that bad.”  He rests the head of his axe on the ground and rolls his shoulder.  “You can look at it, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve embeds his axe into the log he’s working on, but something about Bucky’s posture bothers him.  “Bucky, you look… I don’t know, like you don’t want me looking, but you don’t have a choice?  I can wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve.  You plannin’ on hurtin’ me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!  Of course not!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then it’s fine.  I just… I got a lotta ghosts, okay?  But I wanna remember how to be normal, so you’re gonna have to treat me normal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t look convinced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And my arm is really pretty fuckin’ cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky smiles his first real smile when he says that, and Steve feels his knees turn to Tony’s putrid gunk.  Bucky’s breathtaking, especially with the wide expanse of his chiseled chest and arms, shining with just a fine sheen of sweat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t realize he’s smiling like the sun himself.  But Bucky does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeez, why were you crackin’ wise about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> chest?” Steve gushes.  “You got… I mean…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna see my arm, or what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s still smiling as he walks the ten feet or so to where Bucky’s standing.   “Man, Buck, this is really something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky moves his arm in ways that cause the various sections to reconfigure.  “Cool, right?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Yeah!”                                </span> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve feels and knocks on and otherwise messes with Bucky’s mechanical arm for a while, but his eyes keep going to the deep scars ringing his shoulder where metal meets flesh.  He finds himself touching the scars with the tips of two fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That hurt?”  He whispers, because he’s standing right next to Bucky and because he’s feeling overwhelmed with the images of how those scars came to be.  He’s read those files, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there’s something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This close, a couple hours into hauling and chopping firewood, Bucky’s warm enough that Steve gets a breath of his scent, and it does something to him.  It’s a smell he’d recognize anywhere, under any circumstances.  It slams into him, making him almost dizzy with nostalgia, and love, and some indefinable want that Steve can’t exactly pinpoint.  For one thing, he wants to throw his arms around Bucky and breathe him in like some sort of aromatherapy for about the next year.  The rest is a complicated tangle of emotions he doesn’t worry too much about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he just keeps running his fingers over those scars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Told you, it’s fine,” Bucky grunts.  He seems to be tensing up, just enough for Steve to notice, so Steve removes his hand and takes a step backward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky wishes he wouldn’t.  He wishes Steve would go on touching him like that.  It’s sending shocks of electricity through his body but, for once, in an extremely good way.  So good, in fact, that he feels a heavy warmth start to settle in his crotch.  Holy shit, how pathetic is he, getting a rise out of two fingers touching his shoulder, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> fingers at that.  He supposes seventy years is a pretty long dry spell, but still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it… did you lose your arm when you fell from the train?”  Steve asks quietly, hesitantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Lose’ is a good way to put it, ‘cause I got no idea where it ended up.”  Bucky actually snorts a little, like there’s anything remotely funny about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeez, Buck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, pal, lighten up.  The arm’s the least of the shit that happened to me.  Besides, I’ve grown to really like this one.  ‘S pretty useful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.”  Steve rubs his jaw meaningfully, and they share a little grin that feels like a sunny afternoon in Brooklyn, circa 1938.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky elbows Steve gently in the ribs, just like he would have then.  “Didn’t knock any sense into you, though, did it?  Go on, get back to work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve tells himself the looks he keeps stealing at Bucky’s bare torso are just because he’s missed him so damn bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam Wilson may be just as reckless as Steve Rogers is, but he’s also very, very smart.  He’s been doing something on the porch for about the last ten minutes, making trips back and forth from inside.  Now he comes to the porch railing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right, GMOs, time for lunch.”  He turns and goes back inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s a GMO?”  Bucky asks.  Steve just shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve can only imagine how hungry Bucky must be, having eaten so little at breakfast, because Steve himself is more than ready for lunch.  He leaves his axe sticking out of the log it’s in, and wipes the slight perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wash their hands at the spigot to the side of the porch, and settle into two large, wooden Adirondack chairs that flank a good-sized wrought iron side table.  Steve immediately sees that Sam’s made two separate plates, each with three thick ham and cheese sandwiches on it, and there are separate large bowls of potato salad and fruit next to each plate.  There’s a pitcher of lemonade in the middle of the table.  He understands exactly why Sam’s set their lunches out that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a god among men, Sam!”  Steve calls out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know!” comes Sam’s shouted answer from inside the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky still seems tense and furtive about his meal, but he eats every bite.  Steve makes a note to himself to bring Sam breakfast in bed every day they’re here if that’s what he wants.  It’s the least he can do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That afternoon, when the wood is chopped and stacked, Bucky disappears for a while.  This time, Steve is less concerned, but still a little disappointed.  Clint doesn’t make a point of letting Steve or Sam see him climb up to the roof this time, just makes his way out the front door of the cabin and swings himself up as he had the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, when he lights up, he doesn’t acknowledge that he sees Bucky descend from his eyrie.  A minute later, Bucky appears next to where he’s lounging.  Bucky's a little less lithe and gymnastic than Clint, but it’s no challenge to climb the rough stones of the chimney.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint pulls out a cheroot and hands it to Bucky, who settles himself on the ridge of the roof about ten feet away, long legs in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This somethin’ you do?”  Bucky asks eventually, indicating their unconventional choice of places to relax.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clint takes a moment to answer.  “Got some demons.  Hazard of the job, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky nods.  “Steve said you’re a SHIELD agent?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>For the next few minutes, Clint gives Bucky the abbreviated version of his resume.  He ends by mentioning Loki’s mind control during the Chitauri invasion.  He doesn’t give much detail, just enough to let Bucky know he’s been there. </span> </p>
<p>
  <span>Right away, Bucky’s pulled in.  He doesn’t ask, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ever get the chance, Imma put an arrow through that guy’s dick and watch him bleed to death,” Clint notes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky grunts in empathetic acknowledgement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess you might feel like that, too, maybe,” Clint continues.  “You ever wanna talk about it, I’m around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That why Steve picked you for this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I like to think it’s my devastating good looks and sparkling wit.  Not to mention I’m good at what I do.  Saved Cap’s ass a few times now.  But the truth is, he didn’t pick me.  I volunteered.  And yeah.  That’s why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky just nods and begins trying to blow smoke rings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky had been right.  That night, it is him whose night terrors wake Steve up.  He doesn’t scream Steve awake, though.  He calls to him gently from the side of his bed, just as he’d done the night before.  This time, Steve doesn’t wake abruptly.  It actually takes a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he does, he sees immediately that Bucky’s in trouble.  His blue-gray eyes are wide and full of fear.  He’s practically vibrating.  Worse, he keeps moving, as if he’s about to sit down on Steve’s bed, or reach out to Steve, then stopping as though he isn’t allowed.  He’s still wearing the clothes he’d had on earlier this evening.  His hair is lank with sweat and he keeps looking around the room as though expecting attack any moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buck?  What…”  Once he realizes the condition Bucky’s in, Steve sits up.  “You have a nightmare?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Bucky answers in a gravelly, tight voice.  “I think it might be a memory.  It was in the war.  Did you get trapped?  A tunnel or something, and… something blue, a Hydra weapon, it must’ve been, and an explosion.  You made me go first, and there was so much dirt—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky looks near tears, and Steve scoots to the other side of his bed.  He pats the mattress.  “It’s okay, Buck.  We’re okay.  Sit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t want to sit, but he does it anyway.  He curls one leg under him and keeps the other one hanging off the bed so he can jump back to his feet quickly.  As he goes on, his speech is fast, pressured, as if he’s living the memory now.  “We were trying to get out but you didn’t make it.  They dynamited the tunnel and there were these huge rocks—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  That happened.  But you got me out.  I’m right here, see?”  Steve pats his bare chest and, to his surprise, Bucky reaches out his flesh hand and pats it, too.  He leaves his hand there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was so scared,” he says, in a near-whisper.  “There was too much dirt, and those fuckin’ boulders.  The tunnel was just gone, and it was all on top of you.  I just started digging.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  The guys tried to get you to stop, but you wouldn’t.  They could see the tunnel was about to collapse some more.  Dugan finally tried to get a hold of you and pull you to safety, but you knocked him clean out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted it on top of me, too, if you were dead.  And I told them to go,” Bucky prods, when Steve stops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  You made it an order.  Said they weren’t allowed to die there, but if I did, you were goin’ with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was… your… hand?”  Bucky’s looking less haunted, but desperate for information.  Like he needs to know whether Steve lives or dies at the end of this story.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you saw my glove.  The Howlies dragged Dugan out of there, so there was nobody there but you.  Nobody knows how you did it, but you got me out, Buck.  They found a boulder that weighed a ton, and it didn’t make sense, where it had landed, but you couldn’t have moved it yourself.  That’s what they said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a faraway look in Bucky’s eyes.  “I dug so hard.  Like a dog, throwing dirt behind me.  I was desperate, screaming at you to be alive, and then I saw that glove, just the tip of one finger.  And I could uncover your hand, but I couldn’t pull you out.  You couldn’t breathe under all that dirt.  I had to get you out.  So when I saw that boulder, I knew I had to get it off you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you did.  No other explanation.  But at the time, it didn’t seem possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.  To me, either.  But I knew I did it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you blacked out.  Said it must’ve been like those stories of mothers lifting cars off their children.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky nods.  “Yeah.  But it wasn’t true.  I knew what I did, I just… I was scared that I could do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pats Steve’s chest again.  The contact feels nice on Steve’s skin.  Then, to Steve’s shock, Bucky launches himself, grabbing Steve into a fierce bear hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was so fuckin’ scared, Steve.  I didn’t think I could get you out.  I thought you’d died and left me behind.”  It’s almost a wail - far more emotion than Bucky’s displayed at any time since they saw each other again in D.C.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I didn’t,” Steve says, hugging Bucky hard and patting his back.  “You saved me, Buck.  Just like you always did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ hell, Steve.  Fuckin’ hell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all right.  We’re here now, we’re both fine.  You did good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky lets go and sits back on his leg, but he’s still inches from Steve.  “And you were a wreck.  You were as sure as I was that you were dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess I was,” Steve grins.  “But we got over it, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure about that, Ace?  ‘Cause I don’t feel too ‘over it’ right now.”  Bucky pulls Steve into another surprise hug, this one perhaps a bit less ballistic, and holds on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hug lasts so long Steve has time to wonder whether it would be wise to remind Bucky of his aversion to close contact to avoid him going into another tailspin.  But it feels too good to let go.  He decides to just enjoy it and, if that ends up being the wrong answer, he’ll deal with it then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Startin’ to think it ain’t Hydra that messed me up this bad.  I think it was tryin’ to keep you alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve laughs into Bucky’s shoulder, relieved that he doesn’t seem to be bothered by their proximity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What you said last night,” Bucky murmurs.  “That goes for me, too.  You’re that one true thing in my life, too.  Sorry I let them take you away from me, pal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t.  We’re both right here.  They’re the ones who are gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although Bucky goes back down to his room after they say good night half an hour later, Steve’s not particularly surprised to wake up in the morning and look over to find Bucky dozing a few feet away in the large reading chair in his room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Reunited with Steve, Bucky begins to realize that he is not the only one with ghosts from the past.</p>
<p>The others at the cabin see evidence of all that Bucky's endured.  As Steve and Bucky begin to share memories of their life together, they also begin to notice... each other.</p>
<p>There may or may not be a gratuitous shirtless wood-chopping scene.  But it's entirely necessary for the plot.  Really.  Also, you're welcome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Things We Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>See end of chapter notes for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>The next week is as uneventful as they can make it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky don’t have time to get bored, because they’re spending pretty much every moment working on Bucky’s memory in some way.  Sam’s not bored, because he’s functioning as a kind of lifeguard, making sure they don’t get in too deep.  He makes them take a lot of breaks, assigning them chores or telling them to do some hiking or target practice to give their minds some time to relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint, on the other hand, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a little bored, so he’s assigned himself to tactical defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doomsday prepper who built the cabin had been convinced that a shadowy, monolithic “the government” – whatever form that might take – would be coming to get him.  So the cabin already has an outer perimeter that assures no one can come in overland undetected and, if they’re hostile, unmolested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint installs a new, tighter perimeter as a second line of defense.  In addition, he spends much of every day out in the woods, mapping the terrain within the outer perimeter.  Every day, he finds new routes for getting around, learns all the landmarks, and practices shooting things from insane distances around obstacles.  By the end of the week, he moves faster through the trees than anyone would on the rough, tangled ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all spend time on Clint’s “routes”, not only to be prepared in case of a problem, but for exercise and just plain fun.  Sam, especially, likes to chase Clint, playing epic games of tag and obstacle-course target shooting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Sam’s idea to set up scouting posts on the outer perimeter where they can ensure that there are no surprises.  They rotate the duty of checking the perimeter twice daily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why it’s not a good surprise when they all wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon and, upon reaching the kitchen, find that breakfast is being prepared by Natasha Romanoff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam thinks it would actually be funny to watch Clint wrestle with his mixed feelings – he’s overjoyed to see her, but furious that she’s been able to breach his defenses – if Sam himself wasn’t so shaken by the news of the cabin’s apparent vulnerability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you guys relax?” Natasha purrs, pouring orange juice into glasses set at each place at the big table.  “I broke into the Vatican Archives, remember?  I’m also the one President Ellis woke up to, sitting on the side of his bed in the White House.  You’re secure here.  I’m just very, very good.  Anyone want Mimosas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve had been awakened by a nightmare around four a.m. and unable to get back to sleep.  Bucky, having a particularly bad night himself, had heard Steve milling around the great room.  Neither had much hope of sleeping, so they’d made hot chocolate and taken it back to Bucky’s room so their voices wouldn’t wake the others.  The interesting thing is that they’d sprawled across Bucky’s bed to drink it, and actually both fallen into a peaceful sleep afterward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a very reserved group sitting around the table when Steve and Bucky tramp up the stairs.   They’re as stunned to see Natasha as Clint and Sam are, and equally troubled by her ability to get inside the cabin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” she says, with an annoyed edge to her voice.  “I’m gonna start getting pissed if you all don’t quit being so damned surprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that,” Steve tries.  “We know how good you are.  But you know who all’s after Bucky, and all four of us are wanted now.  This isn’t just a matter of your pride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>это пиздец</em>!”  Natasha rolls her eyes, disgusted that she has to explain this.  “You guys should know both me and Barton better than that.  You’re completely forgetting that we’ve been friends forever.  I know how he thinks.  That’s how I knew he was here and that he would be the one handling security.  It’s also why I knew how he’d do it.  You’re all <em>мудаки́</em>.  But you’re secure <em>мудаки́</em>.  Now eat your breakfast and shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all move toward their regular places at the table, which is where Steve gets a gut-wrenching surprise.  In his chair, propped up against the backrest, is his shield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four pairs of eyes watch him as he just looks at it for a moment, then steps to the chair and touches it reverently, sliding a finger down its face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you might miss it,” Natasha says quietly, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nat…” Steve whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pick it up, dumbass,” she says, nudging him.  “You know you want to, and it’s yours, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve does.  He stands for just a second, feeling the weight and the absolute rightness of the shield on his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if it’s mine anymore,” he says softly.  “I’m a criminal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck that,” Sam says, and takes his seat at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clint agrees.  “That shield belongs to you and nobody else.  You’re Captain fucking America.  Tony Stark can suck it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sets the shield down carefully against the counter between the great room and the kitchen, then turns to hug Natasha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Natasha.  Thank you.  How did you—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome, Rogers.  Just… how about if you don’t ask me any questions, and maybe don’t mention to Stark how you got it back, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room erupts in laughter at that, and they sit down to breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It becomes obvious to Steve fairly quickly that Natasha is watching Bucky closely.  He’s not surprised.  Natasha watches everyone closely, especially anyone who might be a threat to the people she cares about.  Her weird relationship with Clint notwithstanding, it’s also pretty obvious that she’s here to check Bucky out for herself.  He sees the moment she notices Bucky’s demeanor around meals, and is grateful that she doesn’t mention it, tact not being Natasha’s strong suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve more than half expects her to want to spend time with Bucky, so he’s not surprised when she does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to check out these perimeter defenses of yours,” she announces when breakfast is done.  “<em>Ты пойдешь со мной</em>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods in what is obviously compliance, rather than preference, but Natasha doesn’t acknowledge it.  Steve sees Sam’s fork poised to strike and knows that he’s not allowed to object or demand to go along.  Instead, once Bucky and Natasha disappear into the woods, Steve does the dishes and keeps an eye out for their return.  He’s jealous as hell, and irritated at Natasha for just sashaying in and ordering Bucky to go with her, no doubt to be intensely interrogated.  But he trusts his team.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky feels The Soldat more strongly than he has in a long time.  Partly it’s because they’re speaking Russian, and partly it’s because Natasha’s direct way of speaking is like The Soldat’s.  But it’s also like Theirs.  It feels… dirty.  He hates it.  Hates her.  Wants to kill her, but knows that is forbidden.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait.  No.  He chooses not to.  Big difference.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember me?”  Natasha asks as they make their way through and over snags, deadfalls, and the generally uneven terrain of the forest floor.  They’re careful to disturb the ground as little as possible and not to break branches on the trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky stops dead.  They’re making no sound, so it takes Natasha a few steps to realize he’s no longer right behind her.  She turns around to face him, her face blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?”  Bucky’s tone is arctic and distinctly threatening.  She sees that he now has a knife in one hand and a gun in the other, and he’s tensed and positioned for whatever Natasha might be about to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she does is stand stock-still, hands open and showing no obvious signs of tension, although Bucky is too well-trained to miss that her weight’s all on her back leg and her left hand is in position to grab the weapon strapped to her thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not what I asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I just wondered whether that would help you remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Чёрная Вдова</em>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky gives a start.  “Kiev.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  Think about that while we walk.  Try to remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that you’ll know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Know what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s two hours later when Bucky and Natasha are on the treetop platform that serves as the last scouting post.  They’ve said a total of five words each as they’ve checked the perimeter, but after the first half-hour or so, there’s been little tension.  There has been a great deal of communication, it’s just that Natasha doesn’t naturally use words any more than Bucky does, and for the same reasons.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They talk now, however.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do?”  Bucky asks.  Natasha doesn’t need clarification.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t decided yet.  By the time I leave here, we’ll both know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Accords?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The solution to a problem, in theory.  With great potential to go wrong.”  She shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask,” she says.  It’s an invitation rather than an order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky has so many questions, it’s hard to choose.  “How did you break free?  Of the conditioning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With Clint’s help.  It took time.  It’ll be shorter for you, I think, because the Red Room programmed me the old-fashioned way.  Zola and Lukin, they relied more on technology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did it take you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Several years.  But again, that’s because I was grown.  Built.  They took electronic shortcuts with you.  Plus, the serum is healing the damage to your brain.  It shouldn’t take you as long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s patient while Bucky works through that information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they take your memories?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t have any.  I was a child.  But they implanted some.  Which is another reason I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s expression betrays just enough fear that Natasha recognizes how deeply terrified he actually is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have activation codes.  Do you know them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says nothing, too stunned and sickened to ask the question.  Because a trapdoor has just opened in his memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There will be at least one quick-switch code and at least one kill code,” Natasha says.  There is an imperative in her voice.  “You’ll find them, but it takes time.  Until then, you cannot allow Hydra close enough to use them.  Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky understands all too fucking well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This conversation is going to make all his other tough conversations with Steve look like cocktail party chat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn Them.  Damn Them all to hell.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve stands at the edge of Bucky’s bed, watching him sleep.  Bucky opens his eyes almost immediately, sweeping out with the knife as usual as he jerks upright.  He’s shirtless and gleaming, like he had been when they were chopping wood, although there’s no light that could actually be glistening on his skin like that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s just me,” Steve says, and sits down on the bed with his thigh touching Bucky’s.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky grins and strokes Steve’s hair with a hand that was just holding a knife, but is now empty.  “I’m glad you’re here,” he says in a low, purring voice Steve’s only heard him use a few times.  With girls.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve leans closer so he can run his own hand over Bucky’s chest, slow and sensual and oh, so good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky smiles wider.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now they’re laying down, side by side.  Steve’s burning with arousal.  They’re talking about some memory of Brooklyn that doesn’t explain why they’re touching each other the way they are.  Steve wants Bucky to let him take off his boxers (which, to Steve’s knowledge, Bucky hasn’t worn since the Roosevelt Administration), but he’s afraid to ask.  He keeps pushing at the waistband, curling his fingers under it just a little, hoping Bucky will get the idea and give him permission.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s also moving his hips, trying to get Bucky to touch his cock, because everything Bucky’s doing feels so fucking good he’s painfully hard.  It should be obvious from the way he’s gyrating toward Bucky’s hand what he needs, but he simply can’t say it, and Bucky keeps stopping just short of stroking him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But then Bucky lifts up on his elbow, looking down at Steve.  “Gonna kiss you,” he says.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” Steve gasps.  “Hell, yeah.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bucky leans his head down and Steve feels him touch his lips to Steve’s.  He kisses back.  Once, twice, mouth open just a bit, like Bucky’s is.  It’s desperately good.  Finally, Steve’s whole body feels a flash of heat as Bucky slides his open palm down Steve’s dick through his sleep pants.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Steve.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s frustrated to see that Bucky’s standing next to the bed now.  Steve’s lying there, panting with need, and he reaches out to Bucky.  “No, come back!  Get back here, I can’t–”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve.  Wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve opens his eyes to see that he’s in his own bed, and Bucky is, in fact, standing next to it.  He’s wearing a pair of Steve’s sweatpants and a T-shirt that was left in the cabin by the doomsday prepper.  It’s black and features a white silhouette of a guy with what looks like an ammo belt and a knife on his thigh, pointing some kind of automatic weapon, with the words, “Bring It, Bitch” written below the figure.  It kind of fits Bucky, although the silhouette doesn’t have nearly enough weapons to be him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit.”  Steve’s grabbing handfuls of his own hair in his classic post-nightmare pose, but he doesn’t sound as traumatized as usual.  He sounds weirdly different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay,” Bucky reassures him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Yeah, I’m okay.  I was… was I—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad.  Just gearing up for one, I think.  You were just startin’ to mutter a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit,” Steve says again, and pulls a pillow over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bucky thinks</span>
  <em>
    <span>.  That’s new.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d I say?” comes from underneath the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t catch any words.  Just a couple moans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that helps Steve’s body relax a little.  Bucky’s glad he was here, in the reading chair again.  He hasn’t had any nightmares tonight, he just can’t relax enough to close his eyes.  He decided to come up to Steve’s room because it’s familiar and soothing to be near him, even this giant, exaggerated version of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good, Buck.  Go ahead back to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t sleepin’.  Just sittin’ here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That gets Steve’s attention, taking his mind off the mortifying dream.  The one he will go to his grave without speaking of.  “Natasha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Steve’s discomfort, still being a little hard from the dream, Bucky sits down next to him.  Steve scoots back, glad for his sheet and blanket, and hoping it just looks like he’s giving Bucky his space, as usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, there’s somethin’ we gotta talk about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those words I told you about.  The ones they’d say to install a mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not the only triggers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve tilts his head just slightly, not fully grasping Bucky’s meaning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know those words are still there.  In my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.  We’re gonna work on that.  That’s one of the reasons we’re here where they can’t find you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But those aren’t the only ones.  There’s at least one rapid-activation code.  They called it a quick-switch.  That means They can turn me back into The Winter Soldier any time they want.”</span>
</p><p><span>“They gotta get to you first,” Steve growls and unconsciously moves closer.   </span> </p><p>
  <span>“Steve.  We’re the first two They’re gonna take out.”  Bucky’s eyes are boring into Steve’s, the longest and most intense eye contact they’ve had since the beginning, in Bucharest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re gonna try.”  The implied threat is clear in Steve's voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky gives a fond little smile and puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder, leaning in to keep Steve’s eyes focused on him.  He’s not about to let Steve sidetrack him.  They’re going to talk about this.  They have to.  Which means that, although he feels Steve freeze up, he doesn’t let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen to me.  You’re not safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That trigger.  Don’t you get it?  All They gotta do is get close enough to say it.  One fucking word, and They get us both.  Most likely thing is, They get me to eliminate you, then use a kill code.  Bang.  Done.  We're both dead.  But here’s the thing, Steve.”  Bucky grips the back of Steve’s neck, holding his face close, speaking low and distinct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the worst They could do.  They could make me help Them get a hold of you, too.  To make you what they made me.  One fucking word.  That’s all it will take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s horrified for a couple of reasons right now.  One is his body’s reaction to Bucky being so close, in his bed, in the dark.  But the other is what he’s saying, and that one’s rapidly getting the upper hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the problem.  We can’t.  We’ll need to uncover the triggers, but they’ll be buried deep.  That’s gonna take a lot of time.  So I… damn it, Stevie, I’m so sorry about this.  But I need you to promise me something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything, Buck.  You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sits back and takes his hand from Steve’s neck.  “You ain’t gonna like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Newsflash, pal, I already don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s more intense eye contact, like Bucky’s trying to practice some mind control of his own.  He takes a breath and says, “I get triggered, you gotta put me down.  Headshots.  As many as it takes.  And you can’t fucking hesitate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!  See, that’s exactly what you can’t do.  What happened on the helicarrier, that was because I was compromised, and it made me weak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What weak?  You beat the hell outta me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a mark of how serious Bucky is that he doesn’t even seem to notice that golden opportunity to insult Steve, let alone take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you about The Soldat.  How you saying my name on the bridge affected him, but he just thought you were trying to trigger him.  He told Them that he’d recognized you.  Got wiped for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve winces.  He knows from the files what “wiped” means.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he didn’t tell Them you said my name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because he knew I was there, in his head.  But They didn’t.  They never had been able to kill me entirely, and he knew they never would.  So if he told them, they just woulda put him through a bunch more wipes for nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you – he – remembered?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really.  But he could feel something.  And since they didn’t know he’d heard my name, they didn’t remove it, so he stayed compromised.  That’s why, on the helicarrier, The Soldat couldn’t kill you.  But that’s it, Stevie.  You hear me?  The only reason we’re sittin’ here is we got lucky.  That won’t happen again.  So you gotta swear you’ll take me out if they—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, I am not gonna kill you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to!   Steve, you gotta swear it, and you gotta mean it.  I’m not gonna be responsible for you goin’ through what I did, or for givin’ Hydra another fucking zombie super-assassin.  Promise me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!  Steve, listen to me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just do it again.  I’ll just say your name again, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s voice, when he responds, is suddenly no longer loud and insistent.  It’s a strange monotone that sounds like a funeral dirge.  “It won’t work this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What—  Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky prepares himself to say this part.  As Steve watches that, he knows that whatever Bucky’s about to say, it’s gonna be bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because a quick-switch code is permanent.  It’s like lighting a match.  You only get to use it once, ‘cause the match burns itself up in the process of doing the job.  If they use that code, I’m already dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve stares, horror-stricken, unable to form a coherent thought other than </span>
  <em>
    <span>No! Bucky!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You understand, pal?  That happens, I’m a walking corpse, and I’ll do whatever they tell me.  So you gotta swear to me that you’ll put me down.  Please.  I’ll die anyway, once they do it, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, kill me first so I don’t kill you or help them take you.  I won’t be able to do it myself.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky—”  Steve’s shaking his head, trying to un-hear Bucky’s words.  Trying to find another way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”  Steve cries, begging now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky reaches for Steve, cradling his face in both his hands.  He holds him there, their faces inches apart, forcing Steve to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stevie,” he whispers.  “Please.  I can’t be the one who—”  Bucky swallows hard.  “Please, pal.  If you love me, you gotta do this for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve closes his eyes and lets his head fall, collapsing into Bucky’s chest.  Bucky puts his arms around him, resting his cheek on the top of Steve’s head.  He can feel Steve trembling, and feels the sobs he’s stifling.  “I’ll already be dead, Stevie,” he croons into Steve’s hair.  “It’ll be a kindness.  I’ll burn in hell for the things I’ve already done.  I’m beggin’ you, pal.  Don’t make me burn for betraying you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky feels Steve nod, twice, and hears his muffled murmur.  “Okay, Buck.  Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!  All right, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay like that for a long time.  If Bucky lets a few tears fall into Steve’s hair, he doesn’t think Steve notices.  He squeezes his eyes tightly closed, feeling Steve slowly quiet as he keeps his left arm firmly around his shoulders while rubbing his flesh hand along his spine.  Bucky thinks this is something he used to do, probably when Steve was sick, because he somehow knows Steve likes him to press hard.  It also feels familiar enough that he keeps thinking he should be able to feel all of Steve’s ribs.  Keeps expecting there to be so little flesh covering his spine that it feels almost sharp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he comforts Steve, awash in guilt for putting him in such an excruciating position, a hard, viciously angry part of him thinks about Hydra’s disappointment when Captain America destroys their Asset just when they think they’ve won an invaluable prize.  He can feel a dull ache where the pain of such forbidden thoughts should be.  And for the first time, he’s glad to feel that discomfort.  He’s glad because it’s no worse, which means that he’s been able to get rid of at least some of the crap They’ve infected his brain with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he realizes that something else is changing.  As his brain is rejecting the Hydra shit the way his body rejects an embedded bullet, what’s being removed is being replaced by a glittering rage so cold it burns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Soldat carried most of Bucky’s anger at Hydra.  Up to now, all Bucky’s wanted is to be free, and to stop the pain.  Not anymore.  Now The Soldat’s wrath is Bucky’s, and it’s combined with a lifetime of vigilant possessiveness.  Everyone who’s ever known them knows that to hurt Steve is to get hurt by Bucky.  The remains of Hydra need to learn that lesson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his head a little, just enough so that his lips brush Steve’s hair, and he makes a vow.  To God, or Steve, or the universe, or maybe to himself, it doesn’t matter.  Bucky vows that he will make Hydra pay for Steve’s pain in this moment.  Hydra will pay for every tear They’ve ever made Steve cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He will get rid of every stinking shred of Hydra filth in his head.  But he will damn well keep Their fucking serum, and Their training, thank you very much.  He will embrace the ruthless, vicious weapon They’ve made of him.  He will take all of that and he will shove it up Hydra’s ass and blow Them to Kingdom Come so that They can never threaten Steve Rogers again.  Bucky vows to himself that he won’t just blast Hydra to ash like those hideous weapons They powered with the Tesseract.  Not after what they’ve done to Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s done with Hydra, there won’t even be ash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Champ.  Lie down.  You need your beauty sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky lifts Steve by the shoulders, sitting him up so that Bucky can get out from under him, and off the bed.  He has another sense of having lived this moment many times as he straightens the bedcovers while Steve settles onto his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Bucky’s leaving the room, he hears Steve softly call his name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said if I love you, I’d do this for you.  The only reason I’d ever consider… what you’re askin’… is ‘cause I do.  Love you.  And I don’t particularly care how corny you think that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky huffs a little laugh.  “That’s good, Ace, ‘cause it’s corny as hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment for him to be sure enough of his voice to add, “Love you too, Steve.  ’S why I gotta be sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t go to bed.  He knows he won’t sleep, especially now.  Yes, he’s managed to ask the unthinkable of his best friend, shattering him in the process (</span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks, Hydra</span>
  </em>
  <span>).  So he’s accomplished the steaming turd of a task that was keeping him up before.  But he’s still not remotely okay with any of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now there’s this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem is the sounds Steve was making while he was dreaming.  Those deep, soft moans opened a rusty, squeaky door in Bucky’s mind.  One with a number of locks on it.  Even when Bucky was hibernating somewhere deep in an abyss in his mind, this door was hidden still deeper.  He hasn’t thought about this since—  There’s no humor in the harsh little laugh he gives.  There was a time he prayed desperately to stop feeling like he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shoulda been careful what he wished for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Safe in his blue spruce eyrie, having satisfied himself that nothing is amiss around the cabin, Bucky turns a deeply reluctant eye inward.  He remembers music, heavy on horns and rhythm.  Dancing.  He can hear himself making glib conversation, but cannot see the faces of any of the girls who giggled at his lines.  He remembers kisses and stolen touches.  A surprised, clumsy initiation in the back seat of a car, trying to pretend he wasn’t scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers a sense of confused, hurt aggravation that had something to do with Steve — a painfully thin and pale Steve — and a rude girl.  It occurs to Bucky that there was more than one girl who was rude to Steve.  But this particular girl had an unattractive sneer and a dress with red flowers on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m tellin’ ya, Darlene, you better appreciate this.  I ain’t sure even Bucky Barnes is worth havin’ to put up with his pipsqueak friend.  I don’t even remember his name—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky had come up behind her, bringing the girls’ drinks while Steve waited at the bar for theirs.  He had set the drinks down so hard gin sloshed out onto the table.  “His name is Steve.  And he’s worth ten of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d turned to his date, putting his back to her friend.  “Darlene, me and Steve are leaving.  If you wanna go now, I’ll walk you home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t remember whether Darlene had taken him up on that offer.  What he remembers is lying to Steve about why they were leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait.  No.  There’s more.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He remembers a little, flat bottle of something that burned.  Something cheap, even for them.  Himself and Steve, sitting on the edge of a concrete dock, watching the lights on the water and laughing.  Throwing his arm heavily and carelessly around Steve’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, what the hell.  So what if the Darlenes of the world think I’m a creep?  At least I’ll always have you, right, pal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs and slurs a little.  “Jeez, you’re such a sap when you’re drunk, Bucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, c’mon, you gotta comfort me in my time of need.  Tell me we’re always gonna be friends, even if every girl in the world gives me the old heave-ho.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, all right,” Steve agrees.  “‘Cause it’s so hard for you to get a date.  Darlene mighta been your last chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mighta been.  You never know.  But as long as you stick with me, I’ll be all right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like I’m stuck with you then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of that comes from behind the door with the rusty hinges.  It all just points to what’s locked in there.  Because behind that door is the one thing Bucky ever kept from Steve.  Bucky shudders and makes a small, wounded sound, shaking his head against the thought of Steve ever finding out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t stop a few shards of shame-filled, panicky memory from shooting through his mind, hurting where they hit, like shrapnel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tiny room in some kind of dingy rooming house.  A broad back, sweaty and moving, his own fingers digging into the guy's shoulders while his mouth is on Bucky and it’s so wrong, so disgusting, and it feels so fucking good he thinks he’s gonna die from it.  Thinking “there’s no going back after this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An alley and a guy calling him all the names everybody calls fairies, the ones Bucky calls himself, while Bucky’s on his knees, his own dick in his hand and tears in his eyes because he wants this so bad and he can feel the revulsion of everyone he loves if they knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A morning, sitting on the stoop in front of Steve’s building while Steve draws him.  The sun shining on that limp blond hair, lighting Steve up and making him look so radiant Bucky wishes he could draw, too.  Thinking what it would be like if they could ever— and not letting himself finish the thought because it’s a sacrilege.  A quick, disgraceful handjob from a guy he hardly knows in the front seat of a car is mortifying enough, but to ever think those things about Steve…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now, sitting in the blue spruce several lifetimes later, Bucky feels a bubble of nausea in the pit of his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easier for Bucky to remember the experiments that twisted fuck Lukin dreamed up than to think about a world where Steve knows about the sewage that’s behind that rusted door in Bucky’s mind.  Steve would be sickened by him, would look at Bucky with revulsion.  He’d be tainted by their friendship, far more than he already is.  Bucky would never defile Steve with that knowledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s even worse now.  Even more of an abomination now that Steve’s risked everything for him.  Steve spent two years flying all over hell and gone to find Bucky, risking his life and everything in it to rescue him.  Steve’s broken with people he loves and become a fucking criminal, not to mention putting his friends in the same situation, all for him.  Bucky will die a hundred times before he’ll let Steve know the abhorrent truth about the guy he did all that for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But most of all, because Steve is… like he is now.  Bucky knows better than anyone how Steve felt about his own body... before.  The trouble breathing, the crappy heart, the nervous problems, but most of all the frail weakness.  The bony slightness that wouldn’t allow him to do much of anything physical.  Not that it stopped him, the little shit, from spouting off whenever anyone, anywhere offended his overdeveloped sense of right and wrong.  Bucky would always try to calm things down, but lots of times, that just meant Bucky got socked, too.  Sometimes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky would get socked, ‘cause the goon would feel bad about messing with a guy Steve’s size.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Great.  A gorilla with a conscience.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s body now allows him to fight his own battles.  And, God help Bucky, that body is a fucking work of art.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky dragged Steve on a thousand double dates, each time hoping this time would finally be the one, only to have every single girl turn out to be too stupid or shallow to actually see Steve for who he was.  Bucky had been shocked every time.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>How could they not see it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Steve’s desirability, his superiority, was so blazingly obvious to Bucky, he just couldn’t believe it wasn’t that obvious to everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he sees now that it was cruel to put Steve through that.  And Bucky is not going to crown all that cruelty with the ultimate insult of letting Steve know he’s attracted to him </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  To Steve, that would mean everything Bucky ever said to talk Steve up had been a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky may be damned to hell, but that’s one sin he never committed.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam takes advantage of the opportunity to check in with Steve while they’re patrolling the outer perimeter of the cabin area.  Sam hardly knows Bucky at all, just knows what he’s read in the files and what he’s learned over the two weeks they’ve been at the cabin.  But Sam knows Steve.  They were fast friends, and he’s only grown to like and respect Steve more over the three years they’ve known each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had idolized Captain America as a kid.  In fact, a small part of his reason for joining the military had been his lifelong admiration for what Captain America had accomplished during World War II.  He’d been even more impressed as an adult, when Steve Rogers’ frozen body had been recovered from the wreck of the Valkyrie.  What he’d done already was impressive enough.  The guy could certainly have called it a career, especially after having been sealed in the Arctic ice for sixty-six years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he hadn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the three years between his rescue and the day they’d met, Steve Rogers had picked Captain America’s shield right back up and gone back to work.  This time, instead of Nazis and crazy scientists, he’d saved the world from magic princes and alien armies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Sam had started out awed, and a little starstruck, and his opinion of Steve had only improved from there.  Steve was friendly, funny, and self-deprecating, but somehow still sassy.  Best of all, Sam had never imagined he’d actually show up at the VA center where Sam works.  And then he had.  Steve had charmed Sam’s clients at the VA with his quiet, genuine empathy.   And they hadn’t only been charmed.  They’d been helped.  Because if Captain America himself can have difficulty processing his experiences as a soldier, then the vets in Sam’s group figure they can let go of a little of their shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there is no doubt in Sam’s mind that Captain America is having difficulty.  Steve was in trouble when they met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how marvelous his new body is, Sam knows that the procedure itself, and the process of accepting his new reality, had to be way into the red on the trauma scale.  From there, apparently without the first hint of psychological support, he’d gone almost straight into the meat grinder of WWII battlefields.  He’d been reunited with the best friend he’d grown up with, who was all the family Rogers had, only to watch that friend fall to his death.  In a move Sam can only describe as the most heroic act of suicide in United States history, he’d voluntarily crashed a planeload of explosives that would have wiped out entire American cities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he’d woken up, almost seventy years later, to find that the world he knew, and everyone in it, was gone.  And still no psychological support.  Instead, he’d agreed to lead a new group of heroes.  Which only led to more trauma as he watched an alien invasion kill hundreds and devastate his hometown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all that was before he learned that the supposed good guys he’d been working with had been Hydra all along.  Before he’d seen Director Fury murdered before his eyes (and in his own apartment).  Before he’d learned that the murderer was the same childhood friend he’d believed he’d watched die.  </span>
  <span>Before Steve Rogers had begun to learn all of the hideous things that had been done to, and by, that beloved friend.  Before that friend had tried to kill him, too.  Before all the deaths in Sokovia.  Before having to choose between the family he’d relied on since waking up seventy years out of time and a massive governmental bureaucracy he knew was a disaster in the making.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So yeah.  Captain America had some issues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of the reason Sam and Steve had bonded so quickly is that Steve had turned to Sam to shelter him when the Hydra-infiltrated mess of SHIELD had turned on him.  Although they’d only just met, Sam didn’t hesitate.  Only days later, he had helped Steve and Natasha steal the EXO-7 from Fort Meade so that Sam could stand with Steve and whatever loyal SHIELD personnel remained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of their bond is shared values.  Part is mutual liking and respect.  And part of it is that neither one of them has a risk-averse bone in his body.  Which is why, when Captain America made plans to become a criminal in order to rescue Bucky Barnes, Sam hadn’t hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that doesn’t mean he’s not worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how’s the sleeping?”  Sam asks as they use Stark tech field glasses to look for infrared signatures, or anything unusual, from one of the perimeter scouting platforms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t answer right away, a dead giveaway that he has something on his mind.  Sam’s extremely intuitive, but Steve’s also a close friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right.  Meter’s running.  Out with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve scowls at the horizon, but still says nothing.  Which doesn’t matter, because Sam’s a counselor.  He never met a loaded silence he couldn’t outwait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nightmares still, I guess.  Those are about the same.  Bucky and me seem to trade off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you do when you get ‘em?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam raises an eyebrow and looks expectantly at Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I usually check to see if Bucky’s awake.  He doesn’t sleep much better than I do, and neither one of us need much sleep, anyway, so… I’ve woken him up a couple times, when it was bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  He doesn’t remember it, but none of that’s really new.  When we were kids, he stayed with me a lot when I’d get sick, if my mom had to work.  He’d be up all night with me sometimes, makin’ sure I kept breathing.  And then, during the war, we shared quarters a lot.  I wasn’t sick anymore, of course, but I got nightmares instead of pneumonia.  At least I got to take care of Buck sometimes then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make him sound like some kinda saint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs at that.  “Oh, he’s no saint.  But he’s an awful good guy.  Always was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam watches Steve’s mind drift.  “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?  Oh, sorry, Sam.  I was just thinkin’ about the time Bucky’s mom smacked me on the head for calling a woman a dame.  You shoulda seen how hard Bucky laughed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam continues to watch Steve as his face goes through a series of expressions that are hard to read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thing is, though, neither of us ever did it again.  We worshiped girls.  We didn’t wanna insult ‘em, we wanted to kiss ‘em.”  Steve scowls at the horizon again, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost shy.  And he’s blushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember one day, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m listening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s nothing.  Let’s go on to the next scouting point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll agree, on one condition.  When we get there, you tell me what’s on your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sighs.  “Sometimes I really hate that X-ray vision of yours, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what I get paid for,” Sam smiles.  “Listen, Cap, I know I’ve told you this before, but it bears repeating.  Whatever it is, you can tell me.  I won’t judge, and I won’t spill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll almost certainly give me a hard time, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All part of the service I provide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they get to the next scouting platform, Steve’s made up his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He was fifteen, and hadn’t quite reached Bucky-level obsession with girls, but he was getting close.  It was a school night and he was taking a bath while Sarah worked the graveyard shift.  Bath time was his favorite time to touch himself, especially when his Mom wasn’t home, and that night he was thinking about Mary Burgetti, with her red lips and her bouncy blonde ponytail, cracking her gum behind the counter at the five and dime.  Mary was a frequent bath-time companion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about Mary reminded him of the day before, when Bucky had tried to get Steve to swipe a pack of gum while he distracted Mary.  Steve had been shocked, and vehement about his refusal.  Bucky thought the whole thing was hilarious, and had laughed his ass off at how mad Steve got about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You crack me up, Stevie.  You’re some kinda choirboy.  I don’t know how you and me got to be buddies, you bein’ such a goody-two-shoes like you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You socked Albert Huggins, that’s how.  Even though I didn’t need you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, they’d just walked home from the store, teasing and shoving and laughing, like always.  Bucky threw his arm around Steve’s neck, like he’d done a thousand or maybe a million times before.  But then something… happened.  Steve felt his dick get hard, just like that.  Certainly not the first time it had happened out of nowhere — Buck complained about that, too — but this wasn’t that.  This wasn’t just a random, dick-centered thing.  This was full-on, heavy breathing, face flushing, want.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Want for Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s whole being was suddenly full of Bucky, with his messy hair, greasy with his terrible first attempts at using his Pop’s pomade, and his gorgeous, roguish eyes, and his lips that Steve realized he’d been wanting to kiss for a while by then.  But how could it be Bucky?  That made no sense to Steve; guys didn’t go for other fellas.  But damn if it didn’t feel like it was Bucky he was reacting to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there in the bathtub, hand all soapy like he liked it, thinking about that moment with Bucky, Steve was as excited as he’d been when he’d first started dreaming about touching Mary Burgetti’s boobs.  He was too far gone to stop himself, so he just kept thinking about Bucky until he shot his load.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Afterward, he felt weird.  Really weird.  So weird that, the next day, he told Bucky he had to do some chores for his Mom and couldn’t go over to Bucky’s to mess around and have dinner like usual.  He didn’t understand what had happened, and he felt dirty about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve didn’t stay feeling weird.  Sometimes, thinking about some kooky stuff could get him going — being naked outside or like that — and when he was done, he just laughed at himself.  He told himself thinking about Bucky had been that sorta thing.  So he put it in the back of his mind and kept it there, and life went on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t really know when he learned about queers.  His Mom never told him about that stuff, that’s for sure.  Maybe he just saw some guys holding hands or kissing and figured it out.  Or maybe one of the guys had learned about it, and told the rest of them while they huddled in gleeful, whispering conspiracy on the schoolyard like they used to do.  Like the time Eddie Beardsley had told them about French baths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve knew the thoughts he sometimes had about Bucky weren’t queer.  He wasn’t a queer, he liked girls plenty.  And Buck for sure wasn’t a queer.  As soon as Bucky started liking girls, they started liking him back.  Steve didn’t mind; he was a scrawny, sickly kid and he knew it, and Buck was… well.  He tried not to think about that too much.  He didn’t feel that way about any other guys, either.  Just Bucky.  Steve didn’t understand, but he didn’t let it get to him too bad, because he liked girls (a lot) and he figured it was just because of how much time he and Bucky spent together.  A guy was either queer or he wasn’t, and Steve wasn’t.  So he just pushed those thoughts about Bucky away, and planned to take his secret to the grave with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also never again let himself think about Bucky when he was touching himself.  Or almost never.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh huh,” Sam says, sounding like they’re talking about the weather as he’s glassing the woods from their perch in a huge aspen tree.  “Bucky know any of that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!  Heck, no!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  So why’s it a big deal now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I—  The other night, I had… a dream.  About Bucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam all but shrugs.  “Okay.  A sex dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, not sex exactly.  Petting, I guess.  Kissing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you want to have sex?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!  Jeez, Sam, I… I guess.  I wanted to, you know—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right on.  I’m guessin’ it isn’t just the one dream, or we wouldn’t be talking about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve finds something fascinating on the sheer granite face of the ridge about two miles away, in the opposite direction of where Sam’s standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  It’s not just the dream.  I feel… ugh, Sam, I don’t know.  I just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re attracted to him.  Sexually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any idea how he feels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve whirls around.  “Sam, he’s absolutely and completely straight!  That’s what they call it, right?  When a guy likes girls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s what it’s called.  You been doin’ some research?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve buries his face in his hands and groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  You’ve said some things just now that make me think we oughtta start at the beginning.  There’s a lot we know now about sexuality that we didn’t know when you were younger.  And I know you haven’t had a lot of time to study up, but attitudes about sexual preference have changed a lot, too.  So.  Lesson one.  Sexual preference is not necessarily an either/or proposition.  There’s an entire spectrum.  And I’m here to tell you.  Wherever you decide you fall on that spectrum — and that can change, over time — it’s legit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve groans again, his crimson face still hidden in his giant mitts.  Sure, marauding packs of space whales come through a hole in the sky when it’s convenient for </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  But where are they when he needs a diversion?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>это пиздец</span>
  <span> This is fucked up!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Мудаки́ </span>
  <span>  Assholes</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ты пойдешь со мной?  </span>
  <span>Will you come with me?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Чёрная Вдова  </span>
  <span>Black Widow</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Natasha Romanoff arrives at the cabin to make sure Bucky isn't going to hurt her friends, and she has news.  Terrible, gutwrenching news that means Bucky has to ask the unthinkable of Steve.<br/>Steve has a very — disturbing — dream about Bucky, who assumes it's a nightmare.  The sounds he makes in his sleep get Bucky thinking about the past, and the one secret he's ever kept from his best friend.<br/>Steve turns to Sam for advice about his feelings for Bucky.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Progress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>See notes at end of chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>An interesting thing begins to happen during Natasha’s visit.  She enjoys cooking, so she does a lot of it.  But she refuses to serve meals the way the men have been doing, which is to bring plates already filled to each person at the table.  She doesn’t get up halfway through and dish up seconds for everyone, whether they want them or not.  Steve and Sam have no doubt that Clint’s told her why they do that, but she won’t do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she does is serve everything family style, like they did when they were first at the cabin.  Then she watches.  With a few glances at one another, Steve, Sam, and Clint help themselves to more food when they want to (which, for Steve, is always) and silently wonder what she’s up to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first few meals, all she does is watch.  Then, on the third day of her visit, something different happens.  Bucky finishes what’s on his plate and pushes it away from him.  Natasha gives him The Look™, which he pretends to ignore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Вы не съели достаточно</em>,” she says, and holds out her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky blinks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he gets a raised eyebrow, and everyone at the table stops eating.  “<em>Дай мне свою тарелку</em>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m done,” he says in English, like that’s going to deter Natasha Romanoff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Вы думаете, что я тупой</em>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I—”   But he hands her his plate.  Because Natasha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She speaks in Russian the whole time she’s refilling Bucky’s plate, fuller than he had initially.  Her tone is conversational, but with an edge of command in it.  Steve catches very little, but he can tell from Bucky’s face that whatever she’s saying, he’s getting the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she hands him back the full plate, he puts it obediently in front of him, a complex look on his face.  He begins to eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t play games,” Natasha tells the other men at the table.  “He needs as much food as Rogers does, and he’s worthy of it.  Tell him that, when he needs to hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every single one of them has the urge to say, “Yes, ma’am.”  Only Steve actually does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same thing happens for the next few meals before, at dinner one night, Steve watches as Bucky empties his plate, then sits for a moment, not looking at anyone.  When he does look up, his eyes are drawn to Natasha, who is watching him expectantly.  There’s a moment of silent communication before she tips her head and hardens her gaze.  Bucky reaches for seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Natasha leaves the cabin to return to New York, there is only the brief hesitation.  Sometimes, Bucky takes a breath and helps himself, always with furtive glances to ensure that he is allowed.  The others carefully remain uninterested, or give him slight nods.  Other times, he struggles more.  On those occasions, someone will notice and say something casual that includes an invitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who wants some more of these potatoes?  How about you, Barnes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Buck, fair warning.  You better have at least one more bowl of soup.  It’s Nat’s specialty, and it is unhealthy to insult Natasha, if you know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky never entirely gets over his discomfort.  But he learns to listen to his body, rather than the echoes in his mind that tell him lies.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve still dreams of being locked inside a giant sarcophagus and shot through with lightning while being pulled apart.  He still hears the whistle of mortar shells and feels himself running, legs leaden and syrup-slow, trying to get to Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos to warn them.  Half-lizard/half-machine Chitauri still rocket through his old neighborhood in Brooklyn, destroying everything they touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And always, always, he sees Bucky falling away from him into a bottomless abyss of ice and snow and rock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But since learning Bucky’s alive, Steve has added a whole new wing to his library of nightmares.  He dreams of Bucky in agony, screaming for Steve from some hellish laboratory that Steve can never find.  Sometimes he sees Bucky, caged and tortured with those damn stun sticks the STRIKE teams have.  The ones Rumlow liked so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst ones are the ones where Bucky speaks.  The ones where Bucky, trapped and bloody and frozen, uses his dying breaths to ask Steve why he let him fall.  Why he never tried to find him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes Bucky’s a child in those dreams.  Sometimes a young man, in the rags of the suit he used to get decked out in for dancing.  Sometimes he’s wearing his dress uniform, and sometimes he’s The Winter Soldier.  And then there are the times when he’s wearing that blue coat.  The one he got after Krausberg.  The one he was wearing when he fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Steve is always wearing the uniform.  In those dreams, where Bucky looks at him with eyes full of hurt and betrayal, Steve is always dressed in the ludicrous Captain America uniform he wore when he was what Colonel Phillips so appropriately called a chorus girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The uniform hangs off of him.  He looks ridiculous standing there, fidgeting with a shield far too big for him to even lift, fretting and crying and unable to do anything to help.  Because in these dreams, Steve is always five-foot-four and weighs ninety-five pounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam is full of advice.  “Look, you’re spending too much time working on Barnes’ memory.  That stuff’s the work of years, and you do it in bite-size pieces precisely so this shit won’t happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have years, Sam.  You know the whole world’s looking for him, and if the wrong people find him…”  Steve still can’t even say the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you go stomping around in your past like this, you’re gonna kick up a bunch of muck.  It’s inevitable.  And this is exactly the shit you need someone to walk through with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Sam.  I know, and I’m here right now, talking to you.  Believe me, you’ve convinced me that there’s nothing wrong with needing help.  Seeing all those other vets at the VA— I know things aren’t like they were in the forties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about all those other vets at the VA?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I just mean, some of them are in real trouble.  I’m glad they’re getting help.  If I had it that bad—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve really hates that quirk of Sam’s eyebrow that calls him a dumbass without him even needing to bother saying it.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bucky approaches him, Sam’s not expecting it.  Bucky’s consistently declined to talk to him in a professional capacity.  He’s polite about it, just like Steve was, but he’s adamantly opposed.  Just like Steve was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam would like to have some time alone in a dark alley with all those doctors who diagnosed WWII vets with “shell shock” and “battle fatigue”, and then told them to “tough it out like men”, damning a generation of soldiers to nightmares and panic attacks.  And worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s on the porch, slouched in one of the Adirondack chairs with his legs stretched out before him, having an absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment</span>
  </em>
  <span> with his second cup of coffee, when Bucky comes around the corner.  Sam’s not particularly surprised by that; someone else is usually out here with him, because this is the side of the porch where the morning sun is.  But it hasn’t been Barnes before.  And in all the weeks they’ve been in hiding, Barnes has never chosen the seat right next to someone when there’s an option.  But he does this morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s mirroring Sam’s posture with his own coffee, and he’s brought a thermos with him.  Sam wishes he’d thought of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brought refills, if you’re ready,” Bucky grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, man.”  Sam doesn’t take advantage of it right then, but he will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a minute or so, during which Sam is startled to realize that Barnes has something on his mind and is trying to find words, Bucky speaks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much is it gonna fuck Rogers up if I gotta leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  If Sam wasn’t the best there is, instead of taking deep breaths, he’d be shaking Barnes by his collar right now.  Of course, Barnes would knock him to the other side of the outer perimeter with one punch of that metal arm, but still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those trigger words.  ‘M a time bomb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re working on that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Made Steve promise to put me down if it happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, now Sam wants to punch Barnes in the throat.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>He did what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  But Sam’s the best, so he breathes through it.  No wonder Steve’s in such bad shape lately.  And why the hell didn’t he say something?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d that go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’Bout as well as you think.  And it’s gettin’ to him, I can see it is.  Ain’t right for me to stay here, putting you all in danger, making you criminals.  Hurting Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve chose this.  We all did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sigh that escapes Bucky is almost Captain America-worthy.  “Not really.  You agreed to help a guy who doesn’t exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We agreed to help a guy who’s been a POW for—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  Not that.  What They did, what I did, that’s not it.  It’s… somethin’ else.  When I say that guy doesn’t exist, I mean he never did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re saying you’ve never been worth saving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think it’s possible that’s all part of the brainwashing?  Making you think you’re worthless?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky heaves another great sigh.  He knew it would go like this.  He knew it.  Sam’s a counselor.  From what Steve says, an extraordinarily empathetic and wise counselor.  But Bucky’s not here for himself.  He’s here for Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam.  You’re a good guy.  I know how much you’ve been helpin’ Steve, and that means more to me than I got the words for.  I appreciate that you’re tryin’ to help me here, too.  It’s just, you’re wasting your time with that part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my time to waste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get it.  What’s wrong with me, you ain’t gonna be able to talk outta me.  Believe me, I’ve tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean the triggers?  There’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mean the triggers.  It doesn’t matter what I mean.  The point is, Steve and me—  He’s the best person I know.  Always was.  And I always did get my dirt on him.  It was one thing when we were kids and I talked him into gettin’ drunk on booze I lifted from my folks.  But now—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s spilled blood for me.  He’s a criminal because of me.  Not to mention what I could do to him if I got triggered.  I’m poison to him, and he doesn’t even know—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t know what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’.  Doesn’t matter.  I just need your help.  Need you to take care of him, make him understand why I gotta go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help you however I can, but if you want me to make Steve understand, you’re gonna have to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon.  You read those files.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and you just said it’s not about what’s in those files.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky thinks.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve was right.  This guy does have X-ray vision.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s in those files is enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, the problem with that is, Steve knows what’s in those files.  That can’t be why you need to leave, because Steve knows all of it and he still spent two years trying to get to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, please!  I got so much blood on me.  I’m drownin’ in it.  Rivers of it.  And the stuff they did to me, I ain’t even human anymore.  That’s more than enough reason why I shouldn’t be anywhere near someone like Steve.  I’ve never been good enough for him. Now, I’m not even the same damn species.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lets that sit for a minute or two.  He hopes Barnes will see it himself, but he doesn’t know Barnes well enough to predict whether he will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barnes lets go a string of Russian that cannot possibly be anything but a vile series of swear words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Barnes admits, pushing the words out like it’s an act of will to say it out loud.  “I know.  Steve already knows all that.  Doesn’t care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what is it he doesn’t know, that’s worse than what he knows?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t know that I… that I’m a—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam mentally pats himself on the back.  The best part is, he’s about to help Barnes get whatever it is off his chest, and he doesn’t even have to move.  Just wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m some kinda fag, I guess.”  If self-loathing was a tangible thing, Bucky Barnes would be a solid block of it right this second.  Sam wouldn’t have predicted that this menacing warrior could ever sound so small, so vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well.  Sam might’ve patted himself on the back a little early.  This is damn well gonna be a challenge to his skills.  What would a guy who’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> shocked to his core say to support a client who’s just come out, probably for the first time ever?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good one, Wilson.  Yeah, that’s probably fixed Barnes right up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, first of all, Barnes, the word ‘fag’ is derogatory.  Try ‘gay’ or ‘homosexual’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What difference does it make what word I use?”  Bucky spits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s disrespectful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Disrespectful</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  The fuck are you talking about?  Do you understand what I’m telling you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, dude, I understand.  You’re sexually attracted to men.  Gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh.  Bucky Barnes knows how to blush.  Will wonders never cease.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not men.  Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, holy flyin’ crap on a cracker.  You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me with this shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only Steve?  No other men?  How about women?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I like women.  There’s just a few times I did stuff… with men.  When I’d get to wantin’ Steve.  I never really looked at other guys.  For a lot of reasons, but mostly because of him.  I didn’t want anyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right.”  If Sam wasn’t still so rocked to his foundations by Barnes’s revelation, he would have had to hide a smirk as he starts the litany he gave Steve a while ago, this time for Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right.  Well, I guess we’re going to have to start at the beginning.  We know a hell of a lot more about sexuality than we did when you were younger.  First of all, sexual preference is a spectrum.  Where—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilson, no!  What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you?  I don’t fucking need you to be supportive or some shit, I know how—”  Sam watches as a long list of hateful descriptors flashes through Barnes’s head before he chooses one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—depraved and sick it is.  I’m not askin’ you to make me feel better about it, for fuck’s sake.  I’m askin’ you to be there for Steve so when I leave he’ll be all right.  Fuckin’ hell, Wilson, you’re supposed to be his friend.  You gotta help me keep him from ever havin’ to know what kinda trash I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Our Father, who art in heaven…  What’d I do to deserve this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam begins in a calm voice, despite wanting to strap on the EXO-7 and fly a couple thousand miles away.  “Okay, just stop a minute.  All right?  Can you do that?  You got time to walk through this a little before you go ridin’ off into the sunset, right?  Isn’t Steve worth that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake, I don’t wanna </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it!  Leave rotten enough alone, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barnes.  Five minutes.  You’re a big, scary motherfucker, right?  You can sit still for five minutes and listen to some things you don’t wanna hear.  ‘Cause you damn sure need to know.  Think of it as mission intel if you want.  Trust me, there is some critical intel you’re missing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing on God’s green earth Bucky wants to do is listen to Sam Wilson talk about what a disgusting pervert he is.  But apparently, God heard Sam’s semi-blasphemous prayer, because Sam has hit on the one tactic that’ll keep his ass in his chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s quiet at dinner, even for a guy who doesn’t say ten words at meals.  Steve keeps watching him, trying to be unobtrusive about it and failing hard.  Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and thinks he should probably be in the blue spruce instead of at this table.  That’s definitely where he’s headed after dinner.  Maybe Barton will give him one of those cheroots he likes.  Smoking’s good for thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam is absolutely exhausted.  Barnes actually managed to stay in his chair for over an hour while Sam explained modern attitudes about sexual orientation and tried — unsuccessfully — to get him to stop using slurs against himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam realizes now that he fucked up.  He’s supposed to have backup — someone he, himself can talk to when he needs it.  And holy shit does he need it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he cannot tell either Steve or Bucky one thing about what the other has told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is going to take every ounce of strength he has to keep from putting Rogers and Barnes into a room, yelling, “You’re in love with each other,” and then locking the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Sam has no backup.  They have a scrambled satellite connection that allows them to access the internet and make calls in an emergency, but Sam’s an internationally-wanted fugitive.  None of his colleagues are going to risk themselves by giving him an emergency Skype session.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even consider talking to Clint.  Aside from the absolute ethical bar, he knows Clint won’t even bother locking Steve and Bucky into a room.  He’ll just yell, “You’re in love with each other” at the dinner table, then sit back and watch the show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha?  For one thing, she left the cabin a few days ago.  And for another, the sum total of her response would be to raise one sardonic eyebrow and shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> nightmare.  The one Steve sees from Bucky’s point of view.  Lying on the frozen ground, looking at the growing crimson stain on the snow and knowing that Steve isn’t coming to help him.  He hears Bucky ask himself why Steve let him fall.  He feels Bucky’s hurt and despair, wondering what he did wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Steve screams himself awake, he’s glad to see that Bucky’s not in the reading chair in his room.  He hopes Bucky’s in bed, sleeping soundly enough that he didn’t hear whatever pathetic noises Steve had been making in his sleep.  He doesn’t think the scream was too loud, because it was kind of choked off by the sob.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh.  There’s a twisted thing to be grateful for.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The dream’s left him feeling chilled to his bones.  It’s not just the cold sweat soaking his pajamas, it’s the leftover feeling of icy desolation.  He’s shaking from emotion as much as anything.  He wants to go to Bucky.  Wants more than anything to try to explain, to apologize endlessly for his complete failure, and all that Bucky’s suffered as a result.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he can’t.  He’s such a fucking coward he can’t even face Bucky right now.  The shame is choking him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even think about what he’s doing as he goes into the bathroom and fills the oversized tub he had installed.  It’s the one thing he’s changed about the cabin, the one luxury he’s allowed himself.  It gets extremely cold up here, as high in the mountains as they are, and sometimes the only thing that will banish the chill from his bones is a hot bath.  Like now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all feels so heavy.  No matter what he does for Bucky, it will never be enough.  And then there’s the things he feels, the things that would send Bucky running from him in disgust if he knew.  Steve can’t even give Bucky the kind of physical support he’d like to, in case Bucky might figure it out.  Bucky’s smart, and he knows Steve as well as Steve knows himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is all so messed up!  How did it all get so messed up?  How is he supposed to make this right?  Any of it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve fights the tears, which only makes it hurt more when they escape anyway.  Great, wrenching sobs feel like they’re being torn out of him, and his throat is already sore from trying to keep from making any noise.  And now that he’s started, it’s like a dam breaks, and he’s helpless to do anything about the painful spasms that wrack him.  Still, he fights it, because he feels like if he lets go now, he might never stop crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s startled by the hand on his shoulder.  The shock is enough to stop his tears, for a second, and he squeaks, “Buck—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Bucky’s rubbing his back like he does, and saying all the wrong stuff, like “I got ya’, buddy” and “Let it out” instead of making fun of him and telling him to walk it off like he should be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve tries to make himself small, pulling his knees up and hiding his face against them, even though that brings more of him out of the warm water and he starts to shiver again.  He can’t stand to have Bucky see him right now.  He wants Bucky to leave so bad, but he can’t catch his breath between sobs long enough to tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Bucky’s foot is next to his leg, and Bucky’s standing over him, and then sitting behind him in the tub: sleep pants, T-shirt, and all.  He’s pulling Steve back against him and wrapping him in his arms.  Bucky has to work at it a little, but he manages to stretch his legs out on either side of Steve.</span>
</p><p>

</p><p>
  <span>It’s a massive bathtub, but not two supersoldiers massive.  Water sloshes out onto the flagstone floor, and neither of them does anything about it.   Bucky flicks the drain lever with his foot, but he only does that for a minute, until there’s enough room to add some hot water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” he’s murmuring to Steve.  “That’s better.  Sittin’ here in lukewarm water, no wonder you’re shiverin’, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why does it have to feel so damn good to have Bucky chiding him like always, mouth close to his ear so he barely has to whisper in that warm, fond tone that belies the rough words they always use with each other?  Steve hates himself for his weakness, but it’s done now.  Bucky’s here, and he’s seen what a mess Steve is, so he lets himself relax into Bucky’s arms and surrenders.  He lets Bucky take his whole weight, melting into Bucky’s broad chest.   He’s still covering his face and trying to stifle his sobs, because hopefully he hasn’t woken the entire house with his blubbering, and because he just can’t be that exposed, even with Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t gotta hold it in, Stevie.  You always do that, and it ain’t good for you.  It’s okay, pal.  I got you.  Safest place in the world, right here.  Just let go for once.  Nobody but me’s gonna hear you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bucky actually kisses him on the side of his head.  Steve remembers Bucky doing that before, when he was smaller, in the darkest hours of the night, when Steve was deathly ill and Bucky was begging him to take just one more breath.  Such a simple gesture, that kiss, and still it fills Steve with a profound sense of being loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sends Steve into a whole new set of sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As long as he can remember, this is who Bucky’s been for him.  No less than the vital spark that makes Steve go.  Steve remembers the horrible, empty feeling when he’d thought Bucky was dead, like he was one of those glass Christmas ornaments they used to have.  They looked solid enough, but they were so fragile and brittle, you could shatter them with the slightest wrong touch.  This is why.  Because Bucky’s what makes everything inside of Steve work.  When Bucky died, it was like unplugging Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, through some entirely undeserved miracle, Steve has him back.  And it’s still just like it’s always been for them.  Just like when Bucky had held Steve to his chest and kept him breathing through the worst of his pneumonia, Bucky holds Steve and keeps him going through this, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t talk, except for the soft, low murmurs of reassurance Bucky croons from time to time.  He doesn’t ask what’s wrong and Steve doesn’t volunteer.  There’s no real mystery there, anyway.  No need for words.  They sit there long enough that Bucky adds more hot water to the tub twice, and there’s a noticeable lightness to the sky before Steve is finally cried out, and says meekly, “I’m okay now, Buck.  We can get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure?” comes the deep, quiet voice from so close it feels like it’s inside his own chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s awkward and they laugh as they try to figure out how to unwind from the positions they’re in and stand to step out of the tub.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still got all your clothes on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh.  That much less laundry,” Bucky shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gives him some sweats and a T-shirt to put on and they both carefully avoid looking at one another while they dry off and get dressed.  As Bucky wrings as much water as he can from his sleep pants and T-shirt, Steve stands at the door of the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Bucky,” he says sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’S what friends are for.  The wet clothes part is kind of a pain in the ass, so next time make Sam do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve snickers a little, but then he says, “C’mon, Buck.  Don’t do that.  You know you’re the only person in the world I could let see me like that.  It’s a big deal, and I’m grateful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Bucky grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’d make it without you, Buck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky squeezes his eyes shut in pain, grateful for the annoying task of wringing out his clothes, which gives him an excuse to face away from Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, damn, damn!  How the hell’s he supposed to leave now?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve been at the cabin for two months now, and progress with Bucky’s memory seems to have plateaued.  They still haven’t uncovered the quick switch or kill code words, and of the trigger sequence, they’ve only been able to get to Семнадцать before Bucky has to stop the process.  They tried pushing through to Рассвет once.  Although they were smart enough to do the testing inside the emptied-out root cellar, they won’t be trying that again for a while.  It had taken days to patch the holes in the cabin’s foundation.  It could have been finished sooner, but Bucky insisted on doing the repairs himself, and nothing anyone could say would change his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s late evening, a perfectly clear night with so many stars it makes Bucky a little dizzy to sit on the roof and look up.  The smoke of their cheroots gets lost among the tiny pinpoints of light so dense they look a little like puffs of smoke themselves.</span>
</p><p><span>Bucky and Clint have just </span>been goofing around, replaying the paintball game the four of them played in the woods that afternoon, talking smack to each other and laughing easily.  They’ve fallen naturally into a friendship that gets more solid the more they find in common, and the more they come to respect one another’s skills.  Although Bucky doesn’t like feeling indebted to anyone, Clint doesn’t seem to even register the weight of Bucky’s obligation to him for participating in his rescue and keeping the group safe while Bucky recovers.</p><p>
  <span>Right now, Clint’s making up vulgar fake constellations, with accompanying lore that’s either lewd, or disgusting, or — whenever he can manage it — both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and see that one, right off the peak of that ridge over there?  Low down, and kinda reddish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Asgardium culus</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Means the Asshole of Asgard.  It’s part of the constellation </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loki excremento comedenti</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or ‘Shit-eating Loki.’  So, to see the whole constellation, you start at </span>
  <em>
    <span>Asgardium culus</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  That’s his face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky chokes a little on smoke as he laughs.  “Sounds like a dude I do not want to meet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> do.  Preferably tied spread-eagle to a red-hot—”  Unfortunately, the look on Bucky’s face takes a moment to register.  “Oh, shit, man, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shrugs.  “’S okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naw, man, it isn’t.  I’m an idiot.  Really, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, willya?  I said it’s okay.  Can’t spend every second worrying about reminding me of some shit Hydra did.  Never get anything else done.  Tell me about this Loki fella.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vainglorious, overdressed prick with a god complex.  And, unfortunately for me, he had a scepter with some kinda magic rock in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That how he…” Bucky makes a vague motion at his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clint growls.  “That’s how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had any woodland creature been nearby at that moment, it would have been turned to stone by the look on Clint’s face alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucker basically hijacked my brain.  I wasn’t home.  Something else was.  Except… I remember it all.  That’s the worst part.  I remember doing shit I wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone else for.  And I wanted to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods and blows out a long stream of smoke.  “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That what it was like for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shrugs, as if what they’re talking about is anything less than the ultimate violation.  “It all comes out the same.  Somebody else doing bad shit with your body.  Your mind.  And then you get to figure out how to live with it afterward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonder if I’ll ever feel clean again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long silence after that, before a shooting star catches their attention and Bucky asks Clint to invent some more constellations.  They’re up on the roof for another couple of hours before they decide to call it a night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside the cabin, Bucky takes a shower and puts on a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt from the extensive inventory left behind by the former owner of the cabin.  He stands, looking at his bed.  He’s trying to get used to it, but he’d much prefer to sleep in a chair or on the floor.  Somewhere he can spring up from much faster than he can from the soft mattress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s dreading the prospect of another night lying there, chasing sleep while dodging ugly memories.  He decides to put it off for another few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knocking softly, Bucky pushes the door of Steve’s room open a bit, to find him laying on his side, reading by the light of a bedside lamp.  He’s shirtless and his hair is sticking out in several directions, making him look about fifteen years old.  Bucky pokes his head in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha readin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Murder mystery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, yeah.  You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods.  “Just haven’t seen you much today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t really feel like trying to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sits up a little.  “Heard you and Clint laughing earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a funny guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You get that it’s weird to hang out on the roof, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’S nice up there.  We were lookin’ at stars.  He knows a lot of constellations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods, a little nonplussed by the smirk on Bucky’s face as he says it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna come in for a while?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna interrupt your reading.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.  I already figured out who did it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky pushes negligently up from where he’s leaning against the doorframe.  “Scoot over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve does, and Bucky takes a seat next to him, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him.  Steve sits up to mirror his position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You remember how hard it was to get hold of books during the war?”  Bucky muses.  “How when we got a new one, we’d pass it around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Morita would always give away the endings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky laughs.  “Jeez, that’s right.  I’d forgotten that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a nice silence while they think their own thoughts.  After a few moments, Bucky breaks it, saying, “Clint was talking about Loki tonight.  Really messed him up, havin’ Loki in his head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  He hasn’t talked to me about it much, but he talks to Natasha.  Hey, speaking of Natasha, I noticed you’ve been eating better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s eyes flit around the room as he tries for a nonchalant shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good, Buck.  It’s how it should be.  I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.  Didn’t know how to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, Buck, did you really think you’re not worthy of food?  ‘Cause you’re worth—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t really wanna talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the guy who won’t let me get away with that.  C’mon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’S not important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll decide that,” Steve says, and it’s an order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky scowls and takes a while to find the words.  “They didn’t mind loading me up with weapons.  That was just like puttin’ a scope on a rifle.  Makes it do its job better.  But They didn’t like me to need stuff, you know, for me.  They gave me stuff, shots and pills, but I’d always lose weight and strength if they didn’t feed me and let me sleep sometimes.  They hated it.  Made me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”  Steve asks, voice soft and thick with emotion.  He reaches out and puts an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna talk about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gives him a minute, noticing with a warm glow that Bucky leans into him a little, accepting the comfort.  When he doesn’t go on, Steve says, “There was something in the files.  I didn’t understand it, but now I think I might.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit, Stevie,” Bucky groans, covering his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Bucky.  No.”  He turns himself so he can look at Bucky straight on.  “You think them makin’ you beg for moldy bread and rancid meat means somethin’ about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  It doesn’t.  If it means anything, it’s that you were smart enough to do it, and stay alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were consequences,” Bucky whispers into his hands.  “After.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So they made you beg for food, and then punished you for eating it.  Fucking bastards,” Steve hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shocks Bucky just enough that he looks up, and when Steve catches the tiniest hint of a grin on Bucky’s lips, he smiles back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.  It was appropriate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky actually laughs a little.  “Cussin’ ain’t never gonna look right on you.  Admit it.  You’re a choirboy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re a punk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit there, smiling into one another’s eyes.  With Steve’s arm around Bucky’s shoulders, their faces are close enough that Steve can feel the puff of Bucky’s laughter on his face.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>All he would have to do is lean forward a little…</span>
  </em>
  <span>  For a split second, Steve lets himself imagine kissing Bucky right now.  Imagines Bucky kissing him back.  Rather than pulling a knife or two, like he’d actually do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s got a self-destructive streak a mile wide, but even he wouldn’t do something that disastrous.  Still, he wants this closeness, needs it like air, and he can’t make himself pull away.  Can’t even make himself want to.  So he tips his head down, instead, and touches his forehead to Bucky’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That stuff they did, it’s about them.  It’s not about you.  You’re worth everything.  You’re worth the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d I tell ya’?”  Bucky smirks, trying to keep his breathing normal.  “Fuckin’ sap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, after they’ve said good night, Bucky again decides against going to bed.  Instead, he puts on jeans and a hoodie and slips quietly outside.  In the relative safety of his blue spruce, he replays that moment again and again, letting himself imagine it ending differently.  Of course, Bucky knows the furthest thing from Steve’s mind was that he looked like he was about to kiss him, but for a moment, Bucky had been electrified, paralyzed with a joyous hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t let his imagination go too far beyond one kiss, and after tonight, he’ll never think about it again.  But he sits on his branch, leaning against the tree’s rough bark, letting the delicious feelings course through him while he looks down at the dark rectangle of Steve’s window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why he sees the black-clad, fully loaded STRIKE team when they move to surround the cabin.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Вы не съели достаточно   You haven’t eaten enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Дай мне свою тарелку.   Give me your plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Вы думаете, что я тупой  Do you think I’m stupid?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Семнадцать  Seventeen</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Рассвет  Daybreak</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Natasha confronts Bucky about his eating disorder.<br/>Bucky is forced to tell Sam about his feelings for Steve, but he doesn't want to actually <i>talk</i> about it, Sam.  What's wrong with you?<br/>Steve has a long-overdue meltdown, and Bucky's there for him.<br/>Clint and Bucky bond over their past experiences.<br/>Steve and Bucky have a moment — almost.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. It Always Ends In A Fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>See notes at end of chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t warn Steve, Clint, or Sam without giving himself away.  Bucky curses silently in vehement Russian as he watches to see how many intruders there are.  They’re clearly a STRIKE team, which probably means about ten, but he doesn’t know whether they’re SHIELD or Hydra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take Bucky long, observing from his eyrie, to realize that this is way more than one STRIKE team.  Just the ones in the forward assault squad number in the teens.  He spots the leader quick enough from the hand signals he’s making, and gets a break.  While the other members of the team take their positions in preparation for a coordinated breach, the leader himself stays on the ground between Bucky’s tree and the cabin.  A thrown Gerber Mark II landing between his cervical vertebrae ends his ability to initiate a breath before he can scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky can feel the presence of The Soldat as he descends the tree, silent and invisible on the other side of the trunk from the cabin.  It feels good, like backup.  He needs to get to the nearest of Clint’s weapons caches, which is away from the cabin, but Bucky takes the time to dart out and get his Mark II back before melting into the woods.  Steve had given it to him from the hoard he'd found in the cabin when he bought it.  Bucky wasn't about to leave it behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*   </span>
  <span>       *          *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is out of bed before he’s even awake, lunging for the shield.  Luckily for him, one foot gets caught up in the sheets, so that he’s bent over when the intruder sends a bullet to where his head would’ve been otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the woman’s only action in this raid before the shield makes messy contact with her neck.  Vibranium doesn’t even notice body armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve hears the grunts and thuds of a fight from the hallway, and runs toward the sounds.  He finds Clint outside the door of his room fighting with another intruder.  Clint’s just about to send the guy to sleep with a right hook, but Steve does it with the shield, instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awww, man!”  Clint complains, then turns toward Sam’s room.  Sam comes rushing out, surprised to find them just outside.  Luckily, he’s smart enough to make sure of his target before he shoots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you get that?”  Clint asks, pointing to the SIG Sauer in Sam’s hand.  Sam uses Steyr SPPs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just delivered,” Sam answers, inclining his head toward the door to his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you tip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam grins evilly.  “Sort of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between Steve’s supersoldier hearing and Clint’s Stark tech hearing aids, the rest of the STRIKE team downstairs is wasting their time trying to be quiet.  Clint goes into his room and comes back with a bow, slinging a quiver across his back.  He makes a motion, and Steve and Sam flatten to the sides of the hallway, moving toward the loft area overlooking the great room.  They stop when they reach the end of the hall while Clint gets down on his belly and slithers past them into the open loft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s hard to see clearly in the dimness when he’s wearing a black T-shirt and black boxer briefs, but the movement is visible enough when he rolls to his side and sends an arrow through the chest of the guy at the head of the stairs.  The guy shouts and goes rolling down the stairs, seeming to make contact with every surface on his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much for stealth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint motions for Steve and Sam to stay where they are.  He slides to the edge of the loft, bow held sideways to clear the floor.  It’s quiet now that stair guy has stopped pinballing into walls.  Steve wonders where Bucky is, but figures the guys downstairs will find out soon enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, Clint looses an arrow and the harsh </span>
  <em>
    <span>thwish</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the string seems loud in the stillness.  There’s a low grunt, followed by a dull thud and the unmistakable clacking of a weapon landing on hardwood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve signals Sam, and they ease out into the loft.  Clint uses ASL to tell them he doesn’t see anyone else.  With Clint covering from his position on the loft and Sam above him on the stairs, Steve begins to move silently down the staircase, shield held out in front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three of the men in the cabin are startled by gunfire coming from just outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, there he is,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve thinks, and actually grins despite the situation.  Damn, it's good to have Bucky back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve speeds up, whipping around the corner at the bottom of the stairs and quickly seeing that there’s no one there.  He signals Sam, who follows him past the kitchen to the other rooms on the main floor.  They split up to find there’s no one else in the house and move back toward the great room, where Clint stands with his back to the stairway wall, keeping watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three jump and whirl when they hear a soft, near-inaudible whistle behind them.  Bucky’s leaning in from the mudroom.  He jerks his head toward it, and they start moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when five guys come through five different windows on the ground floor, and Bucky whips around to fire at the two who have just appeared in the back doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s dozens of them!”  Bucky yells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Split up!  Get to the rendezvous!”  Steve’s already running as he shouts the orders.  Bucky just has time to roll his eyes as he watches Steve, unarmed and wearing nothing but sleep pants, charge into the woods with only his shield for protection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint swings up onto the porch roof, then leaps to catch the overhanging branch of a tree.  There are gunshots, but he’s moving so fast, and disappears so quickly into the foliage that the only effect of the gunfire is to give Bucky and Sam targets.  They fire wildly as they turn and run in opposite directions, as planned.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky is back up in his blue spruce before any more of the STRIKE pricks show themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are a lot of them, and they have night vision goggles, but apparently they didn’t think of infrared.  They probably thought the element of surprise and overwhelming numbers would be all they’d need.  He’s taking a risk, being up here close enough to hear them if they figure out it’s him picking them off and use the trigger words.  But he wants to lessen the number of assholes following his guys through the woods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For several minutes, he does just that, before he decides they’re too close to guessing where he is, and climbs down to the branch that acts as a (very rickety) bridge to the next tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve runs straight at the place the gunfire’s coming from.  It stops just before he reaches the shooter, but she doesn’t get more than a few steps into her retreat before Steve’s putting her lights out with the shield to the back of her head.  He takes her AR-15 and the extra magazine visible on her belt, slinging the weapon to his back and stuffing the magazine into the waistband of his underwear with an annoyed snort before resuming his run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s dark as hell, and he’s making much more noise than he wants to.  The duff on the forest floor is soft enough, but there are plenty of broken twigs to poke into his bare feet and plenty of unseen obstacles to stumble over.  Luckily, Clint is a dick about security, and those blindfolded training drills turn out to have been a very good idea.  The serum has made Steve’s night vision about as good as the STRIKE goons’ is with their goggles, so he thinks their chances are about even.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches the cache he’s been headed for, only to realize that there’s a goon in the very tree it’s suspended in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit!”  Steve thinks, realizing that throwing his shield isn’t going to work.  There are too many branches in the way.  He doesn’t want to just barge in behind the shield, because the gunfire would let every bad guy in the forest know his location.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gulps and picks up a fallen branch.  It takes forever, trying to do it noiselessly.  Any second, he expects to make a mistake and get a burst of automatic weapons fire for his trouble.  There are a few secondary branches that he needs to tear off of the main one, but he gets most of them removed before one makes a muted snick.  Steve feels a bullet graze his shoulder before he can get in position and launch his leafy missile.  His aim is true, and he’s thrown the branch with enough force that it spears wetly into the STRIKE guy’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Sorry, fella,</em> Steve thinks,<em> but you’re wearing armor everywhere else</em>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy falls from the tree, screaming as he does.  He makes a hell of a lot of noise before Steve gets to him to shut him up with his fist.  Steve sets the shield down just long enough to toss the guy’s limp body twenty feet from the base of the tree, then picks the shield back up.  He jumps and, with his free hand, grabs the lowest branch that will hold his weight and walks his feet up the trunk.  He just has time to rest the shield between two branches so he can climb further into the foliage when he hears at least one goon, and probably two, approaching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re walking so heavily, and so carelessly, that it’s a little funny when he hears one whisper-shouting to the other.  He might as well be using a bullhorn.  Steve stays still until he can see movement in the trees, letting him know the location of first one, and then the other.   It’s tempting just to shoot them, but Steve doesn’t want to do that.  He tells himself it’s because of the noise it would make, but even he is more self-aware than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s pissed.  Seriously pissed.  They’ve found the cabin, which means it’ll never be secure again.  And he really liked that cabin.  Not only that, but the Quinjet is now off-limits, which means a long hike out of here.  But the thing he’s the most cheesed off about is that this means Bucky’s on the run again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d promised to keep him safe!  And now they’re separated and Steve’s up in this damn tree in his pajamas with his extra ammo in his drawers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the first guy makes the mistake of passing under the tree, Steve drops down on him and maybe hits him a couple more times than he needs to.  Maybe he also could’ve tried harder not to hit the trunk of a hundred-year-old oak when he throws him.   The other idiot just stands behind a tree, calling out to his buddy in that ridiculous whisper-shout.  Steve’s a little more careful where he throws that guy, but he still tosses him so far away he doesn’t see where he lands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he climbs back into the tree and digs into the large dry-bag for some clothes and shoes.  He doesn’t even bother with any of the guns or knives.  He’s got his shield.  Besides, Steve doesn’t want to shoot anybody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to punch people.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam needs to hurry.  He can hear the STRIKE douchebags in the cabin already, and they’re going to come search the equipment shed any second.  Strapping on his wings is as automatic as breathing to him now, which means he’s extremely fast.  But it also means he knows how long it takes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t have enough time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks, going down to one knee a few feet inside the door to the outside and setting his guns on the floor in front of him.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is probably a really dumb idea.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears the STRIKE soldiers clatter down the stairs, apparently confident that there’s no one here anymore.  That’s good, anyway.  He keeps working on the clasps of the EXO-7 while he hears the ones outside find the outer door to the shed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He better be right about this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears the inner door yield to somebody’s boot.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alrighty then.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  They won’t see him right away, because the workbench is between them and him, and he’s crouched behind it.  Sam clicks the last buckle into place just as the outer door opens.  All in one motion, he jams the handle to angle the jets straight back, picks up both Steyrs from the floor in front of him, and stands, using his elbow to throw back the power lever.  Bullets fly from his guns at the guys trying to get in, while flaming jetwash hits the ones in back of him, and Sam goes rocketing straight through the door, knocking shouting assholes out of his way as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t help it.  Besides, he’s earned it, ‘cause that was some badass shit he just did.  Sam whoops at the top of his lungs as he shoots into the night sky, the few bad guys who could’ve seen him too confused and injured to aim, even if they’d thought of it.  If he does a couple of barrel rolls, too, who can blame him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he feels bad when he glances back toward the cabin to see that the flames from the EXO-7’s engines have ignited more than a couple of STRIKE goons.  He hopes Steve will forgive him.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint’s about three quarters of the way to the rendezvous, and he hasn’t touched ground since he left the cabin.  None of these STRIKE asshats can think in three dimensions, apparently, because not one of them looks up, even on the few occasions when they hear him coming.  Too bad.  He doesn’t shoot any he doesn’t have to, because they insist on screaming when they realize there’s an arrow sticking out of them.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whiners</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He doesn’t need them advertising his location.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are a lot of them, and Clint is not leaving here until he knows just how the hell they got past the sensors on not one, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> perimeters.  Because that shit is just not fucking acceptable.  As he approaches the inner perimeter, he sees there’s something weird up ahead.  A blue glow that instantly makes the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that blue shit again.  Clint has had way more than enough of anything that glows that color.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So these dipshits are Hydra.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Outstanding.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  In that case, he hopes Bucky’s staying far away from them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he passes it, Clint sees that the entire perimeter, every well-concealed sensor and tripwire, is glowing with that eerie blue that makes his skin crawl.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Huh.  So that’s how they did it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint makes sure he isn’t seen as he makes his way through the trees toward the rendezvous.  He’s a little disappointed that none of these Hydra fucks dotting the forest is smart or observant enough to need an arrow through the eye, because he is not happy.  Natasha is not going to take “bullshit Hydra technology” as an acceptable excuse for creating a perimeter that could be breached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second perimeter is glowing blue, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s cabin is on a slope that ends in an exposed granite cliff.  About a mile from the cabin in the other direction, the mountainside falls away to a valley a thousand feet deep, walled in by mountains on all sides and so densely wooded it’s impossible to see the boulder-strewn creek that runs through the bottom.  The rendezvous is at the base of a rocky outcropping that rises above the trees about a mile outside the cabin perimeters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another supply cache there, and Clint’s just a little sorry to have to break into it to put on clothes.  It had been fun sneaking through the treetops in his underwear.  Kinda like Tarzan.  But he figures he’ll get a little cold while he waits, now that he isn’t moving.  He hasn’t seen any of the Hydra guys in half a mile.  That’s good news.  Still, he crawls back behind the boulder that hides the cache and begins a watch with a nocked arrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Sam long before he sees him against the background of stars and clouds.  Sam lands on top of the outcropping and folds his wings, disappearing into his surroundings.  Clint can’t risk the sound of laughing, but he’s already thinking of ways to give Sam shit about the fact that he’s been flying around, and is now up there keeping a lookout, in his skivvies.  He’s probably freezing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve arrives less than half an hour later, fully dressed and carrying his shield.  He whistles quietly, a prearranged signal that lets his teammates know it’s him, then materializes a few minutes later practically next to Clint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam up top?”  Steve asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he's fully aware of Bucky's exceptional abilities, Steve can barely breathe for the fifteen minutes it takes before he finally makes it to the rendezvous.  When he does, Steve can't help but pull him into a relieved hug.  It's short, but Bucky still gives him an annoyed look.  Bucky's arrival is Sam’s signal to descend quickly to the ground.  They can’t risk the noise of teasing him, but there is an abundance of grinning and smirking as he lands, beautiful and graceful, wearing nothing but the EXO-7 and tighty whities.  He scowls as he pulls clothes and hiking boots from the cache and puts them on.  Although his teammates can’t make fun of him right then, Sam can – and does – flip them the bird with both hands before they begin the hike down off the mountain.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s daylight when they reach the tiny town nearest the cabin.  Sam doesn’t have enough fuel to fly each of his teammates all the way there, but there have been a couple of places where there was no way forward except for Sam to ferry each man, one at a time, across some chasm or scree-slick incline too dangerous to attempt.  At the end of the trek, Steve and Bucky aren’t particularly affected, but Clint and Sam, being unenhanced, are exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why it’s not good news to see that Hydra’s chosen the little mountain town as its base of operations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, they’ve been smart enough to consider this possibility, so they don’t stumble into the middle of the Hydra forces, but it’s still not a good development.  They have no choice.  They have to get to a vehicle here.  There’s no other place close enough that they can hike, and they have no supplies, anyway.  So they find an overlook where they can lie on their stomachs and peer through tall weeds down onto the town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea hits Sam when he sees a group of men who seem to be officers of some kind milling around a small helicopter.  It’s going to be so near impossible that, at first, Steve refuses to consider it.  But then Bucky goes white and grabs Steve’s shoulder hard enough to hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks an inquiry at Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That motherfucker,” Bucky whispers, pointing to a tall, thin man with white-blond hair.  He’s wearing a long, black coat as he stands among the group near the chopper.  He’s looking down his nose at the two men standing closest to him.  They’re too far away for even super hearing (electronic or otherwise) to pick up what they’re saying, but it’s obvious the man is displeased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t usually bother telling me their names.  But I remember him.  Fucking sadistic nutjob.  And he’s a Programmer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s mind goes immediately to computers.  “Okay…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Programmer, Steve.  Guy who fucks with people’s minds.  He’ll know shit like quick-switch and kill codes, especially mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve reflexively shifts his body closer to Bucky’s where they lay on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we find another way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What other way, Steve?  C’mon.  They’re gonna sweep this mountain until they find us, and it won’t be long before they think of infrared.  Or something that’ll flush us out one way or another.  This is a solid plan.  I’ll just have to steer clear of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t respond for a while.  He scowls down at the Hydra vehicles and personnel like he’s trying to incinerate them with the power of his blue-eyed glare.  Finally, he swears under his breath and turns to Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he does, he sees that Bucky’s peering closely at him.  “Remember.  You swore to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam and Clint both know what Bucky’s talking about, so the stricken look on Steve’s face makes perfect sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stay as far away from him as you can.”  Steve looks across Bucky at Sam and Clint lying next to him.  “And the first chance anybody gets to kill him, take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take him out right now,” Clint offers in a vindictive snarl, actually moving to pull an arrow from his quiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too many of them.  They can’t know we’re here until the last second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods his support and Clint lowers his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Appreciate the thought, Hawkeye,” Bucky grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Programmer,” Clint hisses.  “I’ll make it my business to end that fuck before we leave here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s smile is as frightening as the smolder of hate in Clint’s sneer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a very long time for Steve, Bucky, and Clint to make their way down into the town without being seen.  By the time they’re finally in their assigned positions, it’s after noon.  That actually works for them, since it means that Sam can fly wide of the town and then come down out of the sun so that they don’t see him until the last minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they do, it’s because he announces his presence by dropping a grenade in the middle of a group of Hydra vehicles, and begins shooting down on every Hydra mook he sees.  He looks for an opportunity to hit the Programmer, but the guy’s slippery and cowardly enough to take cover as soon as vehicles start exploding from Sam’s grenade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint’s wormed his way closest to the helicopter, because he’s going to get it started amidst the confusion the other three will cause.  Bucky’s coming from the opposite side of the chopper from where the Programmer is, to keep him as far away as possible.  Steve’s on the other side, hidden between the only two brick storefronts in the little town.  As soon as Sam’s grenades begin to hit, Clint starts running and makes it to the helicopter while Steve and Bucky fire just enough to keep the bad guys hunkered down and away from the chopper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost works.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint fires up the helicopter and the rotors slowly begin to turn, which feels to Steve like it’s taking longer to come to life than any aircraft in the history of aviation.  Bucky’s behind a small house on the edge of the field where the helicopter is, laying down a steady fire to keep a group of three bad guys cowering behind a panel truck.  Every few shots, he makes an increasingly more insistent motion to Steve, telling him to make his run for the chopper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wants Bucky on the chopper, safe from the Programmer, wherever he’s skulking.  He tries to communicate that to Bucky, but Bucky’s closer to the helicopter, so it makes sense for Steve to go first.  Steve thinks about signaling an order, but decides against it.  This is Bucky, after all.  Steve has absolute confidence in his ability to make it to the chopper, and besides, Sam’s creating all kinds of chaos out there, and Steve will be covering him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Sam uses his last grenade to blow up the panel truck, Steve darts out from his hiding place, firing into the air.  He runs, impossibly fast, across the open space to the chopper.  He dives in the door Clint’s left open, landing on his belly so he can slide across the floor to the door on the other side and cover Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve begins firing in the general direction from which Bucky emerges fully from behind the little house, just beginning to run toward the helicopter.  As he does, Steve sees a white-blond head pop out from behind him, almost at the place Bucky had been just a second before.  No wonder Steve hadn’t seen the Programmer.  He must have circled around, trying to sneak up on Bucky from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam!”  Steve screams, fairly sure Sam won’t be able to hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve knows that, if the Programmer gets a chance to yell a code word, Bucky will hear it.  He can’t avoid it; the Programmer is just too close.  Steve also knows that he isn’t the shot Clint or Bucky is.  If he misses, if the Programmer has the chance to utter a quick-switch or kill code, it won’t matter if he hits the Programmer on the second shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one thing he can do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time slows until it seems to be happening frame by frame, the way Tony sometimes used to slow sparring videos to show them where a move had gone wrong.  It’s pure instinct.  Steve isn’t a sniper.  Guns are not his weapon.  And the Programmer is all but hidden behind the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drops his weapon.  In one motion, he rises to his knees and grabs the edge of his shield, reaching back and hurling it with what he prays is exactly the right amount of force, at the right angle.  If he’s wrong, Bucky will die.  If he misses, Bucky will die.  If the Programmer gets a chance to speak his hideously evil words, Bucky will die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky has a split second to see Steve lift up and throw, just as the Programmer begins to shout.  For the briefest flash, Bucky’s face registers confusion as he realizes what’s happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the shield strikes Bucky in the side of his head, and he goes down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t even look to see where Sam is, or pay the smallest attention to the ring of armed Hydra agents waiting to fire.  He is entirely unaware of Sam pirouetting in the air, laying down a circular hail of bullets while Steve crosses to Bucky and slides down to his knees beside him.  He doesn’t know that Clint has grabbed his bow and put an arrow through the bridge of the Programmer’s nose and into his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he knows is that Bucky is alive.  Unconscious, and sure to be deeply unhappy with Steve about the massive headache he’ll wake up with, but alive and untriggered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve lifts Bucky into his arms and carries him heavily across the open space, laying him gently into the helicopter.  Sam does a beautiful, acrobatic swoop, rolling and firing as he does, to scoop Steve’s shield up and toss it to Steve, who catches it just before slamming the door of the chopper.  Clint lifts off with Sam covering their retreat, until they’re far enough from the town that Sam can abandon his post and fly into the open door of the chopper.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really fucking hate you, Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you be mad at me for </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>killing you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I feel like I got the 90th Infantry doin’ target practice in my head.  With a howitzer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.  You’re a worse crybaby than Jones when he burned himself on that gun barrel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky pulls the pillow back over his face, groaning, and Steve thinks he can hear some Russian mixed in.  He’s glad he doesn’t know what Bucky’s calling him right now.  Not that he cares.  Bucky can call him names in Russian, English, or any other language he wants until the end of time.  Because it means that he’s here, and he’s alive, and he’s still Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, they’re in an isolated summer cabin on Cheeseman Lake in Colorado.  The little lake house has seen better days.  Clint had flown them to safety, but on Steve’s instructions, he’d set down as soon as they found a place remote enough so that they could take care of Bucky.  Once he’d regained consciousness and Sam was satisfied that the blow hadn’t done him any serious brain injury, Bucky had given them a list of criteria to look for, to find a place to hide.  They’d decided on the general area, and then waited anxiously as Sam had scouted for the right place.  There’s no electricity or running water, but Bucky insists that’s a good thing.  No chance for someone to notice those things are being used, when there’s not supposed to be anyone here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint finds the closest place he can land the little helicopter safely and away from people, after which Sam ferries Steve and Bucky, one at a time, to the cabin.  As soon as they’re safely deposited there, Clint and Sam crash the chopper into a mountainside.  Clint chooses the most inaccessible place he can, and he and Sam are on a high for days from Sam’s daring maneuver to pull Clint out of the chopper at the last second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it won’t fool Hydra, or anyone else, for long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After four days in the dilapidated lake cabin, Sam declares Bucky fully recovered, although it’s going to be much longer than that before Bucky stops complaining about Steve knocking him out.  They both know that’s mostly relief.  Their thoughts are never far from how close they came to the unthinkable.   Bucky, of course, grumbles about Steve hovering, but nobody’s fooled, least of all Steve.  Right now, neither one of them can stand to have the other out of his sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They should leave the U.S.  What they need is a Quinjet.  Which means Denver.  And there’s not much of a chance Tony Stark and the others who believe in the Accords won’t see them coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve knows they won’t make it without help.  Tony’s just too smart, and the Avengers are just too good.  So he swallows his pride and allows Clint and Sam to talk him into asking for help from Wanda Maximoff and some guy he’s never met that Sam swears will balance the scales.  The only reasons Steve agrees are his absolute faith in Sam, and his desperate need to keep Bucky safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>As expected, Tony not only knows about Hydra finding them in the mountains, but he’s anticipated their attempt to get to the Quinjet in Denver.  Steve is devastated to find Tony, Rhodey, Vision, and some kid in a spider getup waiting for them at the airport.  Worse, Natasha is with them.  She was never anything but honest about refusing to go against the Avengers.  They’re the only family she has.  But he’d hoped she would at least sit this one out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony has the airport evacuated, which means he’s here to fight.  Steve can hardly believe this moment has come.  Maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance to make him see.  And for a minute, it seems like maybe Tony might be as destroyed as Steve is by the sight of his friends, his teammates, arrayed here to fight him.  A small flicker of hope sparks in Steve at seeing and hearing how much this is costing Tony.  Maybe that pain will help him see that, regardless of their political differences over the Accords, nothing outweighs the bonds of friendship and chosen family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s not to be.  Steve feels like his heart is breaking as he listens to Tony get angrier, seemingly unable to understand that he’s asking no less than for Steve to betray Bucky.  Of course, he doesn’t phrase it like that, but that’s what it amounts to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And in the end, Steve ends up leading his team in a fight against… the rest of his team.  It’s one of the lowest moments of his life.  But he’s been backed into a choice between… well, between the rest of the world and Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s no contest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The battle goes on for an excruciatingly long time, with no resolution in sight.  The teams are just too evenly matched.  It’s Clint who calls it.  He points out that only two things matter.  First, Bucky cannot be captured.  No one can guarantee anything close to justice for him if that happens.  And second, they can’t take the chance that any of the Avengers will kill any of the others.  It’s bad enough to fight their way past their friends to get to the Quinjet.  But not one of Steve’s team is willing to seriously injure anyone on the other side to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I hate to admit it,” Clint finally says, “If we're going to win this fight, some of us might have to lose it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s never met Scott Lang before, which makes it even more impressive that he takes the outrageous risk of using his suit to make himself huge, rather than ant-sized.  And it works.  Between him and Clint, Sam and Wanda, they’re able to keep the rest of the Avengers occupied enough that Steve and Bucky are able to get to the Quinjet and escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except that they have nowhere to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky is quiet as Steve flies them out of Denver, low and fast.  For quite some time, they’re both wrapped up in their own thoughts.  Steve can’t shake the image of the Avengers, his team, his family, fighting against each other, instead of together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re over the Pacific Ocean when Bucky finally breaks the silence.  “What’s gonna happen to your friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s too tired and discouraged right this minute to remind Bucky that he’s talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> friends, not just Steve’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky hesitates a moment before he speaks again.  And when he does, what he says suddenly makes everything clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he has so many times since getting Bucky back, Steve reassures him.  “What you did all those years, it wasn’t you.  You didn’t have a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bucky’s reply is no surprise.  “I know.  But I did it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s hardly listening, because his entire brain is buzzing with a realization so startling, and yet so simple and undeniable, he’s unable even to move for a moment.  Of course Bucky is worth everything Steve’s been through to rescue him, because Bucky is worth anything.  That, Steve’s always known.  But it’s suddenly absolutely clear why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not simply because they’ve known each other since they can remember.  It’s not even because they’ve been best friends for all that time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve will do anything for Bucky because Steve is in love with Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still trying to figure out where to even begin processing that when the radio in the Quinjet crackles to life and Steve finds himself speaking to the last person he would have expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>King T’Challa of Wakanda. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The cabin is overrun by Hydra.  The team escapes, but they need a Quinjet, which means Denver. As expected, Tony is at the airport to meet them.  Steve and Bucky find themselves with a Quinjet, but nowhere to go.<br/>Tony has forced Steve to choose between the whole rest of the world and Bucky, and it was no contest.  Somewhere over the Pacific, Steve realizes why.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. A Safe Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>See notes after chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s weird to call T’Challa “king”.  When Steve met him, he was the Crown Prince of Wakanda, but then the explosion in Vienna killed his father.  Steve knows that T’Challa is firmly behind the Accords, and he also knows that Wakanda is the most technologically advanced nation on Earth.  The Quinjet may be flying low enough over the ocean to avoid radar, with everything turned off to avoid detection, but Steve’s sure T’Challa has greater tracking ability even than Tony Stark.  So he’s not exactly happy to hear T’Challa’s voice hailing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks back at Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This bad news?”  Bucky asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feigning a confidence he doesn’t feel, Steve answers, “Let’s find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns back to the controls and flips a couple of switches so that Bucky will be able to hear the conversation, too.  “Your Majesty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Rogers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sincere condolences on the death of your father.  He was a very good man; I respected him a great deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please know that the man they’re accusing—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain, that is why I have contacted you.  I know that Sergeant Barnes did not murder my father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You—”  Steve turns his chair around to face Bucky.  They exchange stunned looks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this,” T’Challa continues.  “Because I know who did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Majesty, how—?  Who—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure you have many questions.  But I believe the foremost question on your mind at this moment is where you and your friend can find sanctuary.  Is that not so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is.  Look, I know that Wakanda supports the Accords, and I understand the arguments.  But I would ask you, please, not to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Rogers, we can talk politics another time.  For now, let me answer the main question.  The Kingdom of Wakanda offers you asylum.  I will personally guarantee your safety, and that of Sergeant Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is dumbstruck, while Bucky’s immediately suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve asks, “With all due respect, Your Majesty, why would you make that offer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have many reasons.  One of them is that I wish to see justice done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the Quinjet, Bucky gives Steve an “I told you so” nod, while Steve frowns and sighs.  But then T’Challa goes on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Justice, in Wakanda, means that a man must be responsible for a crime if he is to be punished for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve feels the air leave his lungs.  It’s a moment before he can respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for that,” he finally says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that Wakanda is not what we choose to appear to the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  I know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am assured by our scientists that they can find a way to help your friend.  To not only prove that he has been implanted with programming, but to remove that programming.  He would then be able to defend himself against these charges.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your scientists can help him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They believe so.  What was done to him was done with technology.  Our scientists can use superior technology to undo it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky speaks up for the first time, unable to hide his skepticism.  Because Steve looks like T’Challa has just announced it’s Christmas morning, as if Bucky will be cured the moment he steps off the Quinjet.  Bucky’s not fooled.  Nor does he know this King T’Challa.  Hope and trust have long been burned out of Bucky, along with everything else, and some things are harder to recover than mere memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said your scientists ‘believe’.  They don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is correct, Sergeant Barnes.  They do not know.  The technology does not yet exist.  But if it is to be developed, it will happen here.  You do not yet know the true Wakanda.  When you see it, you will understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s clear to Steve that Bucky doesn’t believe a word.  Not only that; Bucky is sure that the offer is a trap.  What better bait to use than the very things both Bucky and Steve want more than anything?  Steve can read all of this in his face as clearly as if Bucky had spoken it, but there’s no way he’s going to let Bucky waste this unlooked-for miracle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Majesty,” Steve says, looking into Bucky’s narrowed eyes the entire time he’s speaking.  “I’m deeply honored and grateful for your offer.  But I hope you’ll understand, we need a little time to discuss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.  I would imagine that Sergeant Barnes has many concerns, as would anyone in his position.  The offer will remain open.  I will provide both of you asylum in Wakanda, and my personal guarantee of safety while you are here, at any time you choose to accept it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s more than generous, King T’Challa.  Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is my honor.  T’Challa out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky engage in silent argument until it becomes obvious neither is going to give in easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, I know King T’Challa.  I knew his father.  They’re both honorable men.  T’Challa means what he says.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Steve.  Why would some guy who’s got no reason to help me make an offer like that?  For you?  That would make sense, except that you said it yourself, he supports the Accords.  Which means to him, you’re a criminal, same as I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you don’t know him, and I certainly don’t expect you to trust him.  But trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  You gotta know I would never even consider this if I didn’t believe you’d be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a damn king, Steve!  He can’t harbor criminals!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I believe him, Buck.  Because of what he said.  He doesn’t think we </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> criminals.  He knows you were falsely accused of the bombing in Vienna, and he knows Hydra used mind control on you.  If you knew him, you’d see how consistent this is with Wakandan ideals of justice.   King T’Chaka was the most fair-minded politician — the most fair-minded </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span> — I’ve ever known.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you should go to Wakanda.  Let him help you.  You never shoulda gotten mixed up in my mess, anyhow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And here goes the famous Steve Rogers temper, right on schedule.  He unhooks his harness and stands.  “Just don’t, all right?  I’m not abandoning you.  Not ever again.  Whatever you decide, you better understand that.  Even if you run again, I’m just gonna follow you.  It’s you and me, Buck, remember?  ‘Til the end of the line.  So just give up the idea that I’m gonna leave you on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pacing and gesturing as he is, it takes Steve a beat to register the look on Bucky’s face.  When he does, he stops moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again?”  Bucky asks softly.  “What do you mean, again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Steve.  I don’t.  When have you ever abandoned me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve moves back to collapse into his seat, turning to check gauges in order to avoid Bucky’s eyes.  “You know when.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve.  Look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it, Steve.  Look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Steve is finally able to turn, which takes some time, Bucky can see the effort it takes to meet his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you talking about when I fell from the train?”  Bucky’s expression is incredulous, his voice dampened by the stunning idea that Steve can possibly believe that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am.  I left you for dead.  Everything they did to you, everything they made you do after that.  It’s on me.  All of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Stevie," Bucky whispers.  "No wonder you did all this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did, Buck.  I abandoned you once, I wasn’t gonna—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Rogers.  You’re full of shit, you know that?  You think I expected that I’d wake up after I fell? </span>
  <em>
    <span> I</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought I was dead, and I knew what all Zola’s injections did to me.  How the hell were </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>supposed to know?  You did what you knew was right, like you always do.  You had way more important stuff to do than go lookin’ for a corpse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you weren’t dead,” Steve whispers desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t know that.  Holy shit, Steve, have you been carryin’ that all this time?  Thinkin’ you abandoned me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Bucky unhooks his harness, and goes to his knees before Steve so that he can look up into the face Steve’s trying to hide from him.  Laying his hands flat on Steve’s thighs, he says gently, “No, Stevie.  You don’t get to believe that.  You hear me?  I’m the one who fell, and I say you don’t get to wish you did anything but get on with the war.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One fat tear escapes Steve’s eye to make its way down his cheek.  “But it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Nothin’s more important than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it is.  All the stuff we were fighting for is.  Stopping the Nazis.  Stopping fuckin’ Hydra.  I mean it.  You did the right thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Buck—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reach for each other at the same time, and their embrace is fierce.  They’re muttering into one another’s shoulders as they stay locked together, Bucky trying to make Steve believe him, and Steve needing the reassurance, once again, that his failure hadn’t cost him Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let it go, Steve.  All that guilt, it’s wrong.  You gotta let it go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I can.  All this time—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All this time, you’ve been a dumbass, just like always.  You did the right thing.  The </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky leans back so he can see Steve, but keeps his arms around Steve’s waist.  “I want you to say it.  Say ‘I did the right thing.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say it.  Even if you can’t mean it yet.  I want you to say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a long time, and Steve feels like the biggest liar ever born.  But he says it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky grins.  His blue eyes are made even more beautiful by the tears welling in them.  “That was lousy.  But you’ll get better.  Now keep sayin’ that until you get it through your thick head that it’s the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbelievably, even at this moment, with Steve adrift and ragged from emotion, he feels Bucky’s grin low down, and shivers a little at the deep affection in Bucky’s voice even as he chews him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, listen.  You gotta know you’re the most important thing in this world to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that.  Same here, pal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope that’s true.  ‘Cause I got no right to ask, but I’m askin’.  Please.  Let’s go to Wakanda.  I don’t know how else to keep you safe.  I swear to you that we can trust T’Challa.  And if they can help you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.  Please, Bucky.  I can’t lose you again.  And I think we both know I can’t kill you, no matter what happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got a big ol’ bump on the side of my head to prove it, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t grin with Bucky.  This is too important.  “I need you with me.  I need you to be okay.  So please, say yes.  Do this for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one else would have heard the barest hint of reluctant surrender in Bucky’s voice, but Steve’s known him too long — and heard it too often — to miss it.  He leans down and puts his forehead to Bucky’s.  “For me.  Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sighs and closes his eyes.  When in his life has he ever been able to refuse Steve Rogers anything?  Never.  And he can’t now.  He nods his agreement and lays his head in Steve’s lap.  For a long time, they hold each other like that, Bucky kneeling on the floor while Steve sits, one hand around Bucky’s shoulders and the other stroking his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets himself do it.  If Bucky objects, or pulls away, he’ll stop.  But for now, it’s everything Steve wants in the world, to be holding Bucky, comforting him.  Pouring his love out to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even know when he decided it.  In this moment, Steve only knows that, once they get to Wakanda, he is going to tell Bucky how he feels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he realizes now that it’s not just a shameful sexual thing.  Sure, there’s lust in it.  A lot of lust.  But it’s so much deeper and more profound than that.  Steve’s love for Bucky is the purest and most sacred feeling he’s capable of.  And he trusts Bucky to understand that, even though he doesn’t — can’t — return it.  He trusts Bucky to believe him when he says he isn’t asking him to.  He just needs Bucky to know that, however he feels about himself after everything Hydra did to him, there is someone who knows all of it, who knows Bucky better than anyone ever has, and loves him completely.  All of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve reaches over at some point and changes their heading for Wakanda, although he doesn’t contact T’Challa until Bucky finally breaks the embrace and goes back to his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa is graceful as Steve accepts his offer of sanctuary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for this,” Steve says as their radio conversation comes to a close.  His deep gratitude is evident in the husky note in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa responds, “Your friend and my father, they were both victims.  If I can help one of them find peace…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s unbelievably generous.  Which Steve knows obligates him to be entirely candid about the danger, and give him one last chance to rescind his offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, if they find out he’s there, they’ll come for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Steve and Bucky feel the pride in King T’Challa’s voice as he answers, “Let them try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about those words, and T’Challa’s complete confidence, soothe something inside of Bucky.  He’s by no means comfortable.  He’s deeply afraid, and he knows that, every moment it takes for the scientists to determine how to remove the triggers from his mind, he is a lethal, unstable peril.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also knows that he will do anything Steve Rogers asks.  Even this.  But that absolute devotion means that he’s going to protect Steve, even though he knows how much Steve’s going to hate it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they arrive in Wakanda, assuming he’s not immediately thrown in prison or executed, Bucky will ask this King T’Challa for two favors.  Not for himself, of course.  For Steve.  And if T’Challa is willing to grant what Bucky asks, then Bucky will know that Steve’s trust in him is warranted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> <strong>*        *        *</strong></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their welcome in Wakanda is quiet, but heartfelt.  It makes sense now, why Steve trusts this king so completely.  Even Bucky, cold and withered as he is on the inside, feels the integrity and sincerity T’Challa exudes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything Bucky sees from the moment the Quinjet passes the protective mirage into the kingdom gives evidence of the sophisticated, advanced culture that Wakanda truly is, rather than the developing nation it presents itself to be.  T’Challa, Princess Shuri, and the few staff members that accompany them show their guests to a luxurious suite of rooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope that you will be very comfortable here,” T’Challa says, with a slight, courtly bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course we will, Your Majesty.  Thank you again.  Please let us know what we can do for you in return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not offer what you are not prepared to give, Captain.  There is much work that cannot be done by technology.  You may find yourself tending a herd of goats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, T’Challa and his small entourage prepare to leave.  Bucky takes a breath and steps forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Majesty.  I’d like to request a word with you in private, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa raises an eyebrow.  Lifting a graceful hand toward a set of floor-to-ceiling glass doors, he says, “Of course, Sergeant.  Allow me to show you the gardens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t look at Steve as he follows T’Challa outside.  Although he’s taken completely by surprise, and wracking his brain to try to determine what Bucky could possibly have to say in private to the King of Wakanda, Steve takes his cue from Princess Shuri.  She gives her brother and their other guest complete privacy by ignoring their temporary departure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She begins to talk about the work that is already underway to devise a method of removing the Hydra programming from Bucky’s brain.  Steve learns, to his shock, that this very young girl is Wakanda’s chief scientist.  He’s thinking seriously of objecting, but she begins to talk about nanoparticles and kimoyo beads and some amazing piece of equipment with a name so long and complicated, the only word in it that Steve understands is “scanner”.  Which wouldn’t be enough, except for the looks on the faces of the others in the little group.  They clearly respect her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they return a few moments later, T’Challa looks much the same as he had when they stepped out to the gardens.  Bucky does not.  So much of his habitual tension is gone, he seems five years younger.  Steve barely listens to the polite exchanges as the Wakandans leave the suite, except to notice when T’Challa says, “We will see you tomorrow morning, then, Sergeant Barnes.  Sleep well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door is hardly closed before Steve is on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that about?  What did you say to T’Challa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think these are good people, Steve,” Bucky says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are.  But—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna come see those gardens?  I don’t know what anything is, but it’s pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quit it, Bucky.  I want to know what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m about to tell you.  Just thought you might wanna be someplace nice when I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m not gonna like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re probably gonna kick my ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gets that look on his face, and sits down hard on a settee with brightly colored cushions and carved wooden arms.  Bucky can’t help but smile.  He feels an upwelling of warmth and nostalgia for that stubborn expression and ready-to-object posture, in which Bucky can still see the same skinny, argumentative punk Steve’s always been, even in the gorgeous giant he is now.  Bucky shakes his head fondly as he sits down next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you laughing at me?”  Steve asks petulantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little.  You look just like you did the day I had to pull you off Artie McCall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know.  He did.  You were bleedin’ all over him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I’m not sure helping you remember was such a good idea after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky lets out the first true belly laugh Steve’s heard from him since that day in the Alps.  It sounds so good Steve almost forgets he’s mad.  But then Bucky turns serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked T’Challa to put me back in cryo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what?  Why would you do that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because everything Hydra put in me is still there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They can’t get to you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last seventy years, it’s that Hydra can get to anyone, anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve pops up from his seat, ready to argue.  “Well, that’s just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stevie?  Please sit down and let me talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The request is so unlike Bucky, and his tone so… final, that Steve obeys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That stuff we talked about on the plane.  About how you think I’m worth anything, and how important I am to you.  Did you mean that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, of course I did.  You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you know that’s what you are to me.  That’s right, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t guess.  You know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, yeah, Buck.  I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I gotta do this.  I’ve fought enough.  I’ve shed enough blood.  I don’t wanna go back to bein’ a thing, Steve.  God knows I don’t want Hydra to get me again.  But it’s not even that.  It’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it wasn’t right to ask you to put me down if I got triggered when we were at the cabin.  But I didn’t have a choice, you were the only one who could do it.  And that’s how it’s gotta be, Steve.  I can hardly live with all the stuff I’ve done.  But if I ever hurt you… that’s—  I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Bucky’s surprise, Steve puts a finger to his cheek and wipes a tear he didn’t even know he shed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t trust my own mind.  So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think goin’ back under is the best thing.”  He looks pointedly at Steve.  “For everybody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Buck.”  Steve says, suddenly and definitively, crystal blue eyes boring into Bucky’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?  Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky cocks a deeply skeptical eyebrow.  “What are you playin’ at?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not playin’.  Honest.  I just realized that, if it was me, I’d want the same thing.  Because I been carryin’ around the weight of not tryin’ to find you after you fell.  Lettin’ you get captured.  And it’s been killin’ me, Buck.  So I know how that feels.  And I’m not gonna do it to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard for Bucky to change gears so abruptly, ready as he’d been to deal with the legendary Steve Rogers pigheadedness.  But he can see that Steve is entirely sincere.  “Uh, well… okay then.  They’re gonna do it tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve almost whispers, and moves a little away from Bucky on the settee.  “In that case, I guess um— It’s time for me to tell you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna go into cryo, too?”  Bucky smirks, but it’s like Steve doesn’t hear him.  He’s suddenly looking at the floor, at his hands, shifting his weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”  Bucky asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… it’s somethin’ you gotta know.  About me.  And it’s gonna—  Well, I don’t want it to change things.  It doesn’t for me, and that’s what you gotta understand.  I’m not askin’ for anything, or tryin’ to—  It’s not even anything new, that’s the thing.  It’s the same as always, I just didn’t understand how important it is, and it doesn’t even matter, really, except that you deserve to know.  But you’re not gonna wanna know, not really.  You’re gonna think I want something and I don’t, Bucky.  I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, what the hell are you babblin’ about?  Just spit it out, for fuck’s sake.  What could you possibly have to tell me that I don’t already know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve takes a deep breath.  He starts to speak, then loses his nerve, and blows his breath out in an impatient huff.  He tries again, still looking anywhere but at Bucky, and notices in passing that the carved artwork on the walls is beautiful.  So he says so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you shut up about artwork?  Ain’t got all day, Champ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay.  It’s just that… you and me, we’ve always been friends.  And your friendship, it’s meant the world to me, every day.  And I thought that’s why, when I found out you were alive, I woulda done anything to get you back.  Even if you never remembered me, or hated me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said.  What of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That woulda been enough, Buck.  I’d have done the same, just for those reasons, even if I didn’t feel—  Have, um—  So I was talking to Sam, and he was explaining how things have changed a lot from when we were kids.  People are way more accepting of things than we were.  You know, of people who are maybe not quite like other people.  And he said that, you know, just for example, two fellas or two girls could even get married if they were, you know, like that.  So all the stuff we used to think when we were kids, even the stuff we were taught—  I mean, queers went to jail or got forced to take medication against their will, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky can feel a hard, cold lump forming in his chest.  It already hurts, and it’s hardly started.  Because he knows Steve.  He knows exactly the conversation Steve is describing with Sam, because he’s had the same one.  Which means he knows what Steve is about to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he absolutely cannot let him say it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I know it might be really strange, and not feel right, or good, to hear, but it is good, because all I want to say, Buck, is that I’m—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop, Steve.”  Bucky stands up abruptly and is across the room in three long strides.  “I don’t wanna hear this.”  He frowns briefly and shakes his head.  “No, that’s not quite right.  What I mean is, I don’t want you to say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know what I’m gonna say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I do, Steve.  I do know what you’re gonna say.  And I’m tellin’ you not to say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you—”  Steve’s mouth freezes mid-word.  He suddenly can’t seem to move.  He’s vibrating with thrumming adrenaline, now without an outlet.  He knows, as his mind continues rocketing ahead even though his body’s locked up, that all that adrenaline is about to be replaced with pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a long moment while he teeters on the pinnacle, knowing the agonizing humiliation is coming but hasn’t quite reached him yet.  He sees Bucky, eyes wide, wearing the horrified look Steve had seen in his most hideous imaginings of how Bucky might receive the news that his best friend is in love with him.  Bucky’s almost at the door of the suite.  Is he going to run out?  Maybe he’s even sick to his stomach and might have to rush outside and vomit with disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, with that thought, it hits.  The mile-high wall of shame Steve could see rushing at him, with no hope of getting out of the way.  There’s nothing he can do but fake his way through it.  It’s done now.  He’ll cry, oh how he’ll cry when he can, but not in front of Bucky.  At least for this moment, he’ll give Bucky the dignity of not having to see that and feel like he has to say something comforting, when all he wants to do is get away from Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  Sure.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”  Steve stands up, injecting as much forced cheer into his voice as possible.  “I was gonna go for a walk, take a look around.  C’mon.  You’ll love this place, it’s like the Stark Expo, only all the amazing future gadgets </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t,” Bucky grunts.  “Don’t really wanna be seen, you know?  Just in case.  Figure I’ll just lay low until tomorrow.  Until I go into cryo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sure, that makes sense.  Anyway, I bet you could use a break from me after these last couple months, huh?  So I think I’ll go.  Give you a chance to settle in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay.  Have fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s away from the door and into one of the bedrooms before Steve even has a chance to say “See you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve opens the door and steps out into the bright Wakandan sunshine.  He wishes he had some sunglasses to hide his eyes.  Well, if anyone notices, he’ll just say that the tears are because of the glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky throws himself across the bed, groaning once he hears the door close behind Steve.  Of all the potential miserable scenarios, all the horrible possibilities, this is the one nightmare he didn’t see coming.  Because how could a guy as noble, as strong and good and righteous as Steve Rogers, ever think of soiling himself by loving a filthy bum like him?  Hell, Bucky was a filthy bum back in the good ol’ days.  The guy he’d been wasn’t good enough for Steve even before getting turned into a black-hearted monster and soaking himself in blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s some kind of sick joke.  The way Bucky loves Steve, wants him like he’s never wanted anyone else, and now here Steve is trying to love him back.  Should be great, right?  It’s a fucking Greek tragedy, is what it is.  All this time, and Bucky’s been worried about the wrong damn thing.  Thinking Steve would hate him for having queer feelings for him, when it turns out Steve has ‘em, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only there is no way Bucky would ever in this world allow Steve to lower himself to love a guy like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’ll never understand.  Bucky knows that for sure.  He’s never seen Bucky for the schmuck he is, it’s part of what Bucky’s always liked about him.  It was never that big a deal; plenty of guys hang out with the wrong sort of friends.  Hell, Bucky’s parents loved that a good guy like Steve was friends with their bum kid.  Hoped maybe some of Stevie’s goodness would rub off on him.</span>
</p><p><span>But love?  That’s a whole other thing.  Bucky’s never gonna allow Steve to disgrace himself like that.  Bucky’s garbage, but at least </span>he’s got the decency not to sully a guy like Steve.</p><p>
  <span>But Steve won’t understand that.  Steve’s gonna think Bucky doesn’t love him back.  Doesn’t want him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This can’t be happening.  He’d seen the look on Steve’s face.  Of all the shit he’s put Steve through, and now on top of every-fucking-thing else, he’s treated Steve just like all those bitchy little dames who wouldn’t give him the time of day.  That poor guy.  That poor, beautiful, soft-hearted, loveable, too-good-for-this-world guy.  Worst day of his life was the day he met Bucky Barnes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky wishes he could cry.  Wishes he could wail and bawl and curl up, hiding, under something big and heavy.  But he can’t.  He’s too ashamed.  And it hurts too much to think what he’s just done to the guy he’s had the nerve to call his best friend since they were little kids.  The guy who deserved a whole hell of a lot better from him than this.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The good news is that T’Challa and Shuri invite Steve and Bucky to have dinner with them and Queen Ramonda, the Queen Mother.  It’s just them, which both Bucky and Steve appreciate for a bunch of reasons.  T’Challa and Ramonda are excellent hosts, and Shuri’s engaging chatter is highly entertaining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky are painfully polite to one another.  They work hard to ensure that none of the Royal Family can see the strain between them.  Almost as hard as they work to pretend with each other.  Steve hadn’t come back to their guest suite until shortly before dinner, so there hadn’t been time for any truly uncomfortable silences.  Just this horrible, pitiful politeness that screams more than words could ever do that their lifelong friendship is mortally wounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s made a little easier by Bucky’s fascination with all that Shuri has to say about Wakandan technology and medicine.  She is full of ideas and theories.  Most intriguing of all, in the stories she tells, over and over, whenever she’s needed something that didn’t exist, she’s simply invented it.  She says this as though it’s a detail in the story, rather than proof positive of her boundless genius.  Bucky thinks glumly how excited he’d be, if he still had the capacity for hope.  Instead, at this moment, he’s just kind of wondering what the point is.  Maybe they should just leave him in cryo and forget about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve, too, is deeply engaged in the conversation he’s having with T’Challa.  T’Challa is a student of Wakandan military history, which provides them both with endless topics to explore.  Better yet, Steve’s mentioned the wall decorations in their suite, and Ramonda has turned out to be an expert on Wakandan art.  She promises to show Steve her collection, and T’Challa makes them all laugh by predicting that Steve will end up having to beg for mercy in order to get her to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is looking forward to spending time in such a pleasant way, especially because he’s going to be all alone, since Bucky will be in cryo.  Steve should probably get used to being without Bucky, he supposes, and immediately asks T’Challa about the rituals of investiture for a new king of Wakanda so that he won’t go any further down that train of thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they walk back to their guest quarters after dinner, Steve and Bucky make small talk about how much they like the Royal Family.  They even talk about the food at dinner, for fuck’s sake.  It’s all so strained and superficial and wrong that Steve’s fighting tears, yet again, by the time they reach their rooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They might have sat together, enjoying the feeling of complete safety and taking advantage of their last chance to talk before Bucky goes into cryo the next day.  Instead, they say stilted, overly-courteous good nights and retreat to their own rooms to be miserable and entirely unable to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least there are no nightmares.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve spends all of the next morning standing nearby as Bucky goes through a long series of scans and tests.  Between scans, Bucky tries to tell him he doesn’t have to stay.  It’s the only exchange since the day before that isn’t trite and hideously civil.  Steve gives Bucky a thunderous look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, exactly, do you expect me to do, just go to a damn museum or something while you go through all this alone?  Dammit, Bucky, you think I don’t remember how much you hate doctors?  I’m gonna be here whether you want me to or not, so you might as well just live with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Bucky says, holding up his hands in surrender.  “Jerk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soft insult feels so good, it’s like a dagger in both their hearts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, late in the afternoon, Shuri and her team have completed all the scans and tests they need, and Bucky’s been prepared for cryo.  They’ve removed his metal arm, so that Shuri can study it and make repairs and improvements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sits on the side of an exam table, just waiting for the final adjustments to the cryo chamber to be complete.  He wants nothing more than to grab Steve and tell him how desperately he loves him, and how sorry he is for… hell, for everything.  For not being good enough.  For making Steve feel like he did on all those terrible double dates.  For being so broken that he’s too much of a danger to be allowed to remain awake.  For leaving Steve alone like this.  But he guesses the second best thing is to remove himself from the equation and hope, while he’s frozen, Steve comes to his senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure about this?” Steve asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky finds it weird that he can be telling the truth and lying at the same time.  “It’s for everybody’s safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods.  “I’ll check on you.  Every day.  I’m gonna be a pain in all these scientists’ ass so they figure out how to help you quicker.  We’ll get you out of here soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Thanks,” Bucky says with a half-hearted fake grin.  He wants to tell Steve to get back to his life and forget about him, but he knows Steve will just get mad.  He doesn’t want that to be their last words before cryo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five minutes, Sergeant,” a crisply efficient nurse calls over to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And at those words, Bucky makes a decision.  Their last words before cryo.  What the hell.  Maybe they’ll never find a way to clear Hydra from his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stevie, before I go under… I wanna tell you that I appreciate everything you’ve done.  For me.  Rescuing me and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d do the same for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bucky says, and meets Steve’s eyes for the first time in over a day.  “I would.  I’d do anything for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve feels those words as a deep, stabbing pain somewhere in the middle of his chest.  “I know you would, Buck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I get out—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>When</span>
  </em>
  <span> you get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When.  I wanna talk to you some more about… yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  ‘Cause I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky drops his eyes and can’t find the strength to raise them again, too terrified of what he might see.  Not even knowing what to hope he’ll see.  Steve’s mouth opens to say something, but at that moment, Shuri comes bustling efficiently into the room, a smile on her face and some sort of device in her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, Sergeant Barnes, let’s get you into the cryo bay, shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve moves back, watching as Bucky’s strapped into the tube, and trying to catch his eye.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for the rest of the time he’s being put into position and hooked up to the medication that will render him unconscious before he feels any pain, Bucky won’t look at Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tube begins to seal and, just before it does, Steve says quietly, “I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s eyes are closed.  There’s no way to know whether he hears it.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>King T'Challa offers Steve and Bucky asylum in Wakanda.  Bucky's deeply suspicious, but Steve talks him into taking the offer.  Bucky knows that no one is safe while he still has all the Hydra triggers in his head, so he insists on being put into cryo.  Steve understands why he needs to do that.  But before he does, Steve tries to tell him how he feels.  Bucky isn't having it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Anticipation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Please see notes after chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“It cannot be good for him,” Shuri says, standing next to where T’Challa has turned on the monitor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head once, twice, as he watches Steve sitting next to the cryo tube in which Bucky lays.  Then he flicks off the monitor to give them privacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it won’t be much longer before he can be awakened?”  T’Challa asks pointedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t bother, brother.  You can’t put any more pressure on us than Captain Rogers already does.  He is more polite than you are, but he is still… determined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel for him.  After all that time, and all that effort.  To have his friend back, and yet not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should talk to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I have not tried?  He will only say that he is fine, then ask me to spar with him, or tell him about Wakanda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is not fine, brother.  Of the two of them, I would say that he is the less fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how you can say that.  Sergeant Barnes has been through hell and is in cryostasis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but he has a brilliant caregiver, and I can fix what is wrong with him.  Captain Rogers is not so fortunate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa laughs.  “Finish your work so that you can wake Sergeant Barnes and remove those triggers.  That will help both of them.  Maybe then, I will agree that you are perhaps not so stupid as you seem.  But that is as far as I will go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out of my laboratory!  Make Captain Rogers spar with you, and tell him I suggest that he deliver multiple blows to your ugly face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t notice the tiny yellow light that indicates someone has activated the small camera in the corner of Bucky’s room in the Wakanda Medical Center.  The room isn’t much larger than the cryo tube — no reason for it to be, really.  There’s nothing on the walls and no windows; it’s basically a stark white cube.  It’s not meant to be a place to visit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But in the three weeks that Bucky’s been in cryo, Steve has spent more time in a hard plastic chair in this little room than he has in the remarkably comfortable bed in his suite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t talk to Bucky every minute he’s here; he’s well aware that Bucky can’t hear him.  But it feels wrong not to talk and, besides, he has a lot to say.  Steve’s looking forward to making jokes about how much better Bucky listens, and how much more pleasant he is, when he’s frozen.  Sometimes he tells Bucky about his day.  Sometimes he reminisces about Brooklyn and the Howling Commandos.  And, of course, he’s also asked Bucky about a hundred times what he meant when he said “I love you” just before Shuri had arrived and it had been too late to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is here when Shuri or her technicians do their checks of the machinery, and when T’Challa visits from time to time.  He was here when even Queen Ramonda came to see Bucky once.  He knows that the Royal Family is concerned about the amount of time he spends here, because each of them has attempted to offer kindhearted advice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Steve kind of hopes they don’t know how much additional time he spends in this tiny room when the lab is dark and silent.  Since coming to Wakanda, he hasn’t slept any better than usual, and his nightmares have become worse.  Anytime he wakes up screaming or crying, or both, he comes here, seeking solace from Bucky.  Just like he’s done since they arrived at his cabin in the Rockies, and just like he’d done in Europe during the war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, Bucky said “I love you,” and Steve really needs to know what he meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Natasha arrives in Wakanda, unlooked-for and, from Steve’s perspective, unwelcome.  Not surprisingly, she finds him sitting in the tiny, plain room with Bucky in his cryo chamber.  She can hear Steve’s voice before she enters, and knows he’s talking to Bucky, although it’s too quiet to hear what he’s saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Rogers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve startles, even though she speaks softly.  “Natasha.  What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stand down, Cap.  I’m not here to make trouble,” she says, as Steve kicks over his chair to take a defensive stance between Natasha and Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you here?  And how did you find us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When are you going to stop being surprised at how good I am at what I do?  It’s really starting to piss me off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I’m not particularly happy to see you, so forgive me if that doesn’t bother me too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks past him to Bucky’s ghostly-pale face, difficult to see past the ice crystals on the inside of the tube and the light fog of frozen vapor that swirls around him.  Steve’s stance goes a little more aggressive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, I get it,” she says.  “You’re hurting my feelings a little here, but I understand.  Let’s go for a walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that whoever you’re here with can come in here and—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve has a foot and a hundred-plus pounds on Natasha, but when she gets in his face, it’s him who backs away.  “Okay, you know what?  Protective is one thing, but I’m not going to let you get away with that.  Fuck you for thinking that of me, and fuck you for underestimating T’Challa like that.  I am not here to hurt Barnes.  If you recall, I could have done that at the cabin — far more easily, mind you — and I didn’t.  Not to mention that you have T’Challa’s protection here.  I’m not about to cross him in the heart of his own kingdom.  Even I’m not that good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what the hell do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s harsh laugh is ugly as it echoes a little off the hard surfaces in the little room.  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.  Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rogers.  If I’d been trying to kill you, you’d be dead.”  Natasha is miffed for real now, although she recognizes that a significant part of that anger is directed toward herself.  “I was trying to stop you from making a huge mistake.  Trying to stop the rift between the Avengers from becoming permanent.  Unlike you, I was trying to be the best friend I could be, to all of my teammates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tony is the one who–“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about Stark, Steve.  I’m talking about Clint.  And Sam, and Wanda, and Scott.  Or did you forget about them, now that you’ve got Barnes back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?  What about them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  What about them?  Seems like you didn’t check, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I, without giving away where we are, and putting them in a worse position than I already have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, be that as it may, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a worse position, and that’s what I need your help with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t easy or quick, but Natasha is finally able to get Steve out of the Medical Center and into the sunshine, where she drops just enough hints about what’s happening to blackmail Steve into eating a decent meal in the fresh air.  Finally, when he’s well into his second dessert, she explains fully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re in The Raft, Steve.  Secretary Ross has them on lockdown, and almost nobody even knows they’re there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?  That son of a—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no need to put a quarter in the swear jar, Rogers, we all know what Ross is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s talking about Ross?  I’m talking about Stark!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s where you’d be wrong.  Because Stark didn’t know.  And when he found out, he sent me to find you and spring them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really expect me to believe that?  Sam and Clint knew you’d arrest them after they helped us get to the Quinjet, which obviously you did.  But I’d never have agreed to that if I’d known Stark would let Ross—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, please try not to be the dumbass Barnes always says you are.  It’s embarrassing.  Number one, I am the one who made sure you got to the Quinjet.  That little spider-kid was about one second from dropping you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve scowls at Natasha, but doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  I electrocuted an adolescent for you.  You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t—  Is he—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s fine.  Stark wasn’t very happy, but whatever.  And speaking of Stark, when he found out where our friends are, he went straight to The Raft to check on them.  They had some choice words for him, as you might imagine, but at least they’re all okay.  And while he was there, some things fell out of his pockets.  Things which crawled their way into some of the prison’s systems, and… let’s just say The Raft isn’t quite so impenetrable anymore.  But I’m still going to need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t Stark help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because this needs to be low-profile.  The Avengers cannot be seen busting criminals out of prison.  Tony’s amazing, but stealth?  No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t leave Bucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a meeting with T’Challa and Shuri in an hour.  Spoiler alert: they’re going to tell you that you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shuri needs another week.  You’ll be back by then.  And not to be judgy or anything, Rogers, but you kind of owe our friends this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a while for things to warm up between Steve and Natasha.  They’re halfway across the span of ocean between the nearest land and The Raft before it even starts to feel like their friendship used to.  They have a plan by then, and there’s nothing to do but talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Barnes has been on ice for what, three weeks?  How have you been holding up?  And before you answer that, I should tell you that I already know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why ask?”  Steve lobs back, but he’s fighting a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s surprised look and raised eyebrow indicate he’s about to say something snarky, but the expression on Natasha’s face shuts him up fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decides to be honest.  He’s been enjoying the time he’s spent with T’Challa, and he and the king are becoming friends, but they still don’t know each other well.  There hasn’t been a lot of time, because T’Challa has a great many responsibilities.  Which is another reason Steve’s been talking to Bucky so much.  He hasn’t had a lot of choices.  So now that Natasha’s here, and asking, he figures it makes sense to take advantage of the opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand why he asked to be put under again.  It’s just… Bucky hates doctors.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hates</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘em.  Even before Zola and Hydra.  I mean, we knew they would need to do a bunch of scans and stuff to figure out how to get all that Hydra stuff out of his head, and it made sense that he would agree to that.  But I had no idea what all goes into freezing a guy.  Bucky did.  And for him to agree to that… how afraid, how broken must he feel, for that to be the better choice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha nods with genuine understanding.  Steve’s pretty sure she understands feeling that unsure of your own mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even the little he’s said about going in and coming back out sounds like it’s excruciating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I hear,” Natasha agrees.  “But Shuri isn’t Hydra, Steve.  She didn’t let him feel the freezing, and she won’t let him feel the thaw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember a little about that.  What it was like to thaw.  I’ve never felt that kind of pain.  It’s like being crushed and burned and electrocuted, all at the same time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he’s not gonna feel it this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that.  But Bucky can’t trust anyone, which means he couldn’t be sure of that when he went in.  But he still did it, just so everyone would be safe.  From him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha has very mixed feelings about, well, feelings.  But they’re alone, and it’s Steve, so when his voice cracks with emotion, she lets him see that it gets to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to be okay, Steve,” she says, with more sympathy than most people believe her capable of.  “Shuri will figure it out.  And when she does, and Barnes is free of all the Hydra crap, he’ll be able to clear his name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all I want.”  He laughs bitterly.  “Even though I’ll still be a criminal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you?  Because from where I sit, you’ll be vindicated.  You’ll have rescued an innocent man from a grave injustice.  I mean, get real, Rogers.  Nobody wants to arrest Captain America to begin with.  There’s certainly not going to be any appetite to prosecute you for that.  Question is, what are you going to do from there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.  Whatever Bucky wants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever Bucky wants, huh?  How about what Steve wants?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want—  I mean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha smiles, kindly but knowingly.  “Not going to say it, even to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.  You would be the worst spy ever in the history of espionage.  Seriously.  Your poker face is so crappy </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> almost want to shoot you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She puts a hand on his shoulder, still smiling.  “I’m talking about the end of that sentence, Steve.  The whole thing goes, ‘I just want Bucky.’  And, as sentences go, it’s a pretty good one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, describing this conversation to a near-hysterical Clint, Natasha will barely be able to speak around her laughter as she describes Steve’s face at this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like Barnes," she continues.  "I trust him with you, and that’s saying something, because I don’t trust anyone, especially with my friends’ hearts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s too stunned and uncomfortable to do anything but stare goggle-eyed at her and continue opening and closing his mouth like a fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just friends, Nat,” Steve tries lamely, beginning to make a series of unnecessary adjustments to the Quinjet’s controls and blushing furiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.  Too bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s all she says.  She leans back and relaxes into the copilot seat, allowing him to end the conversation.  Steve realizes what a good friend she’s being, opening the door and letting him choose whether to walk through it.  She’s even gently let him know that she is actually in favor of a romantic relationship between him and Bucky, while allowing him to maintain his denial, transparent though it is.  The more Steve thinks about that, the more he appreciates it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he can’t talk about it.  The thought of opening his mouth and saying what he feels is more terrifying than the amount of sitar music on Bruce Banner’s iPod.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He definitely needs to talk to someone about his feelings for Bucky.  He actually wants to.  But the only person he can imagine baring his inmost heart to is Sam.  And not least because Sam already knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Natasha,” he manages.  “It’s just… I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha wonders whether he recognizes that he basically just acknowledged his feelings for Barnes, but she keeps her reaction to a mere shrug.  Well, almost.  She’s still Natasha, after all.  “No worries.  But for what it’s worth, I really like the idea of the two of you steaming up the windows of Avengers Tower.  Tony would shit a Saint Bernard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard for her not to needle Steve about the nuclear blush that immediately colors every bit of his skin she can see.  But through a superhuman effort of will, she refrains from teasing him any further.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>After the jailbreak, Steve and Natasha bring Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott back to Wakanda on board the Quinjet.  They agree that it’s a good idea to give them some time and space in a safe place before they make any decisions about where to go from there.  They’re welcome at Avengers Tower or the Compound in upstate New York, but they’re far too angry right now for Natasha to make the offer.  They’re barely speaking to her as it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four escapees understand that it was Natasha and Tony Stark who arranged their breakout from The Raft.  But none of them will be sending muffin baskets anytime soon.  They see Tony as the reason they were in The Raft to begin with, and that’s going to take a while to forgive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Quinjet arrives in Wakanda late at night, and Clint and Wanda are given guest quarters very near Steve’s suite, which Steve invites Sam to share.  Natasha and Scott are also given quarters, although they’re both returning to New York the next morning.  Natasha is simply going back home.  But it’s interesting that Scott, who doesn’t live in Avengers Tower and doesn’t work with the Avengers, is going with her.  He explains to the others that he’s no happier with Natasha or Tony than they are, but he has a daughter.  Enduring Tony’s hospitality means that he’ll be safe, and also able to see Cassie.  He has to make the sacrifice, for her.  The others understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanda and Clint quickly disappear into their rooms, and Sam is in no mood to talk.  “I want two things.  A shower longer than thirty seconds, and a solid night’s sleep without some numbnuts watching me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve completely understands.  Besides, he’s practically crawling out of his skin with impatience to see Bucky.  The second Sam disappears into his room, Steve is out the door and headed for the medical center.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky, of course, looks exactly the same.  But when he arrives, Steve is surprised to find Shuri in his room, doing something with a machine that wasn’t there when Steve left to break his friends out of The Raft.  It’s hooked in to the cryo chamber, and Steve’s instantly concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?  What are you doing to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, hello to you too, Captain Rogers.  I am in the bloom of health, as you can see.  Thank you for asking,” Shuri chirps with a cheeky smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness, I just didn’t expect anyone to be here.  And I haven’t seen you do anything with the cryo tube before, except adjust things a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Shuri.  You may call me Princess if you insist, which I suspect you will.  In any event, I am glad you are here, so I can explain what I’m doing.  We’ve had some exciting developments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you waking him up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet, but I am beginning the process of bringing him out of cryostasis.  It will not be long.  He does not need to be conscious for the procedures to restore his brain, but he cannot be frozen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ve done it.  You’ve figured out how to help him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve actually staggers a little, enough that Shuri puts out a hand to steady him.  There is no way he can speak right now.  “Oh… oh,” is the best he can do.  But his face says everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wish to know a little about the process?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods, moist eyes fixed on Bucky’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will introduce some nanoparticles into his body.  They are of three kinds.  The first are diagnostic.  The second are for repair.  And the third are markers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do they work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The scans we did are like looking at a map on your computer.  If Sergeant Barnes’s brain is the whole planet, we mapped the countries, provinces, cities, neighborhoods, down to individual houses.  The scans told us which houses are damaged, or contain items that need to be removed.  Now we send in the diagnostic nanoparticles, which will tell us precisely where the damage and the unwanted items are located in each house.  The repair particles will repair the houses – those are the micro- and nano-structures in the Sergeant’s brain that have been damaged.  And the marker particles will surround those items that do not belong — the triggers — so that we will be able to aim the energy we will use to wipe them out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve startles and immediately begins to scowl.  “Wipe out?  Wait – what, exactly is involved in ‘wiping them out?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri’s expression is empathetic.  “I am sorry, Captain, that was an unfortunate turn of phrase.  I am, of course, aware of the crude method used to disrupt the Sergeant’s memories and thought processes, and I know that they called it a “wipe.”  The process I’ve invented is nothing like that.  I used the phrase “wipe out” because I am going to erase the triggers that Hydra implanted, like you would erase something from a chalkboard, or like you would use a computer program to remove something from a photograph.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t hurt him?”  The question carries more than a hint of threat in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Captain.  He will not even know it is happening except that we will explain it to him as we do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—  Okay—”  Steve needs some time to process all that, and Shuri is relieved when he sits down to do it.  He’s been swaying on his feet, knocked literally off-balance by the information she's given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s—  Um, it sounds wonderful.”  The more the information sinks in, the more animated Steve becomes, until he’s standing up again, his face alight.  “That’s terrific!  Princess Shuri, thank you!”  Steve isn’t prone to spontaneous hugs, but he gives Shuri one, and she laughs as he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you like that, you will really like the next step.  It is difficult to put it into words.  In Xhosa, I call it ‘Umboniso.’  I suppose the closest English word is ‘reimagining.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the analogy of using a computer to remove something from a picture works here, too.  When you take something out, you have to put something else in, or it leaves a blank spot, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take your word for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not have nanoscans of the Sergeant’s brain from before Hydra implanted the triggers, which means I cannot use them to simply put back what was there.  So, in this case, what we will do is ‘reimagine’ those areas where the triggers were.  They will simply be new brain tissue, ready to make connections.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will that do to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not likely to notice anything at all, the same as he doesn’t notice the triggers now, only the effect when they are used.  But his mind will have a greater capacity to learn, to form new memories.  As you may know, children absorb knowledge at a much greater rate than adults, and are far more adaptable.  These areas of the Sergeant’s mind that currently contain things that Hydra put there, will now be like a child’s brain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve starts to laugh.  “Oh, I am going to have such a good time with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri only smiles a little and, when she does, it’s a sort of superior, “you don’t get it” kind of smile.  “I don’t mean that he will behave like a child.  What I mean is that his mind will be more… absorbent, and… pliable.  He will be able to learn that much more quickly and easily, and also to adapt much better to the changes in his life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he’ll be smarter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is already quite intelligent.  His intelligence won’t change, but he will have a greater capacity to learn and remember new things.  But the increased adaptability, Captain, that is the really exciting part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?  What will that mean for him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A man who has been through the trauma that Sergeant Barnes has would be psychologically devastated by it, no matter how emotionally healthy he may have been before.  I am sure that he is not the same man he was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  He isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This treatment will not cure him, but it will make it far easier for him to heal and move forward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s back to being unable to speak.  He looks down at Bucky’s face, pale and vague under the icy covering of the tube.  He needs to thank Shuri — heck, he wants to fall at her feet professing his boundless gratitude — but he knows that if he speaks, he will burst into tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri, wise beyond her years in more ways than her genius, places a warm hand on his shoulder.  “I am honored that I can do this for Sergeant Barnes, and for you.  You deserve to be happy together.  To have the happiness you were denied by the things that happened to you both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh—” Steve sniffles.  “No, we’re not—  I mean—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri frowns slightly.  “Are you not a couple?  I am sure my brother told me that you were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  Well, it is no matter, but I am a little disappointed.  You are lovely together.  And my mother was looking forward to interfering, trying to make you get married the way she does with T’Challa and Nakia.  Anyway, I am looking forward to seeing you both happier than you were when you arrived.”  She is moving easily, checking readings and making notes in a computer tablet in her hands.  She seems to have no idea that she’s shocked Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t feel the same way about me.”  The words are out before Steve even thinks them.  Between the twin shocks of learning that Bucky’s treatment could allow him to recover from his horrific past and, immediately on top of that, realizing that the Royal Family thinks that he and Bucky are a couple, Steve suddenly has less of a filter than Clint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri raises an eyebrow.  “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’Pretty sure’ is not ‘positive.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I started to tell him that I love him, and he told me not to say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, white boys are not my specialty,” Shuri shrugs.  “But that does not seem like a very clear message.  I would say that another talk is in order.  Is he not worth it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s worth everything,” Steve breathes, unaware in his emotional turmoil that he is stroking the lid of the cryo chamber over Bucky’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri breaks into a beautiful, pleased smile.  “Oh, good.  I did not want to have to tell my mother to give up her hopes for a wedding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finishing her work, Shuri moves to open the door.  “Good night, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Steve says, his voice cracking.  “Wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t thank you enough, Your Royal—  Shuri.  What you’re doing for Bucky, I’ll never be able to repay you.  I can’t express it adequately.  I’m so grateful, Princess Shuri.  So grateful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is my great pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will always owe you a debt.  You, and your brother, and Wakanda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri nods and steps gracefully through the door, leaving Steve alone with Bucky.  He lets himself collapse heavily back down in the uncomfortable plastic chair and buries his face in his hands.  For a few moments, he gives in to his emotions.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Sam, Clint, and Wanda ask to see Bucky.  Steve’s more than willing, although he can see that their desire is motivated more by curiosity about cryosleep than anything else.  He can understand that.  Besides, he is profoundly grateful for all they’ve sacrificed for a man they’d never met.  And, of course, because he’s Steve, he feels tremendous guilt for their ending up prisoners in The Raft.  Steve’s not about to refuse them anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s less than ten minutes before Clint and Wanda are bored.  Sam is, too, but he’s more patient, as well as being fully aware that Steve needs to talk.  So it’s Sam who suggests that Clint and Wanda explore the city while he and Cap catch up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Sam says, when Clint and Wanda have left the white cube where Bucky’s cryo chamber is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you, Sam.  And I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you all ended up where you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that, Steve.  And even if I didn’t, you’ve told me enough times since you sprung us which, thanks, by the way.  We’re good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad.”  Steve lays a hand heavily on Sam’s shoulder and they naturally turn to look at the only thing in the room, which happens to be Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How you doin’ with all this?”  Sam asks, indicating the cryo tube.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not too good.  T’Challa and his family think I’m crazy for spending so much time with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much time are we talkin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve hangs his head.  “Too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I pretend I’m surprised?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t bother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta say, I’m relieved that he made this decision, and that you didn’t talk him out of it.  I’m sure he’d prefer never to see another ice cube, let alone be one again.  Says something about the man that he was willing to do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve frowns sadly.  “You know, when we were younger, I sometimes used to wish he wasn’t so full of himself.  He was always so good looking, always the star athlete, did great in school…  He wasn’t obnoxious about it, but he had a swagger about him.  I’d give a lot to see some of that back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure I see what one thing has to do with the other, Cap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did this because it’s what he thinks he deserves,” Steve says, lowering himself onto the plastic chair.  “Because he thinks he’s… I don’t know, evil or… or corrupted.  He told me he doesn’t think he was worth being rescued.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, man.  That had to be tough to hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tough?  Sam, it about killed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, they don’t say anything more.  But it’s obvious to Sam that Steve hasn’t said everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the other thing?  The way you feel about him?”  He prods gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sighs, long and deep.  “I tried to tell him.  The night we got here, the night before he went into cryo.”  Steve looks up, and Sam sees the depth of pain in his eyes.  “He told me not to say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He say any more than that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  I started to tell him what you and I talked about.  He said he understood what I was trying to say.  And he said, ‘I’m telling you not to say it.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best Sam can come up with to say is, “Well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is not entirely unexpected, but that doesn’t mean Sam knows how to respond.  Not even close.  In fact, his cell in The Raft is looking pretty good right now.    He knows Steve well enough to be able to imagine his side of the conversation fairly accurately.  And after his talk with Bucky at the cabin, Sam’s pretty sure he knows exactly what prompted Barnes to respond the way he had.  The problem is that, ethically, he can’t tell Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But maybe, if he’s careful…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, you know, it’s possible that the two things go together.  The way Barnes sees himself, and not being able to hear you say you have feelings for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve takes that in, nodding vaguely.  “I don’t know, Sam.  Maybe.  Not sure it matters much why.  I know a slamming door when I hear one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.  But doors that get slammed can still be opened later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just before he went under.  He said he wanted to talk some more about it.  And then he said, ‘Cause I love you.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I rest my case,” Sam says, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?  Because that could’ve meant anything.  I mean, we’ve been best friends forever.  Maybe it was just him saying—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe when he wakes up, you could ask him, ‘stead of making yourself crazy trying to read his mind.  What do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles dubiously, but nods and stands.  “That’s what I plan to do.  If I can find the guts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there’s one thing you got plenty of, it’s guts.  I ain’t even worried.  Now c’mon.  I think I might grow to like Barnes, but right now, he’s lousy company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs and gets up from the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam says, “I’ve wanted to come to Africa since forever, and my family’s part Wakandan.  I am not wasting this opportunity.  You think T’Challa would lend us a tour guide?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve throws an arm across Sam’s shoulders as they walk down the hall from Bucky’s room, asking, “How much do I owe you for all these counseling sessions, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, if we ever figure this shit out with Stark, you’re gonna need a loan from him, because it’s a lot.  And you are NOT gettin’ the government rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, there’s no ‘formerly-frozen, sexually confused national icon’ discount?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hell, no.  That’s a surcharge, dude.  A very big surcharge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The process of bringing someone out of cryosleep, when done correctly, is a long one.  But now that it’s begun, Steve immediately drives everyone crazy with his impatience.  He doesn’t leave the medical center.  Whenever the indicator lights on the cryo chamber change, he is in the hallway, yelling for help, even though the care team has already prepared him for what to expect.  One minute, he is snappish, the next tearful, then full of mawkish gratitude.  He sees signs of discomfort in every imagined change in Bucky’s expression, although they’ve explained that Bucky won’t be far enough into the process for that to be possible until the next day.  Steve’s been shown everything that is being done to ensure that, even when Bucky can feel discomfort again, he won’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw videos of them thawing me out of the ice.  They used some kind of warm IV solution—”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain, Sergeant Barnes is not yet at the point where his blood is fluid.  Until he is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, of course.  I’m sorry.  I just… he told me how much it hurts to come out of cryo, and I remember how bad it was for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Captain, but Hydra was not concerned about damage to his tissues, or his comfort.  We are.  Our processes are also far more advanced, and we are moving much more slowly than they would have.  I assure you, we are giving total attention to his comfort.  And you were submerged in frozen seawater.  He is not.  The differences are—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.  Right, of course.  Sorry.  I don’t mean to tell you your business.  I’m grateful for everything you’re doing for him.  Really.  He’s just been through a lot and—  Did he just groan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Captain.  That is not possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t even check him!  Where’s Princess Shuri?  I want her to check him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri eventually calls T’Challa in to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brother, you know that I have been part of delivering half the babies born in the city since I was twelve.  But your Captain Rogers is worse than any nervous father.  He questions everything.  He wants us to hurry, but then he accuses us of haste.  He asks the same questions every five minutes, and he imagines emergencies even more often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must admit, that is kind of sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It became less sweet when I had to medicate him for heart palpitations.  And it ceased all sweetness when I had to medicate a member of my staff for heart palpitations </span>
  <em>
    <span>caused by</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.  If you do not take him away, I will put him in cryostasis until I have finished with Sergeant Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa’s amused.  “I don’t think people would be very happy with you for treating Captain America that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?”  Shuri beams a sunny, wholly-innocent smile up at him.  “I am a precocious child, allowed to interfere in matters far too serious for someone so young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa’s mouth drops open, but she continues, now overly-serious.  “It is you who they will blame.  And they will ask, what kind of king is unable even to prevent his little sister from freezing Captain America?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am fed up with your friend.  And I am performing a delicate procedure for <em>his</em> friend.  He is threatening that procedure and my sanity.  Now do something!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa practically orders Steve into a sparring match, which he drags out for two and a half hours, until T’Challa himself is bruised and exhausted.  Then he asks Queen Ramonda to take him for the rest of the afternoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Mother, show him whatever cultural delights you wish, just keep him away from the medical center until at least dinnertime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve really doesn’t want to be away from Bucky, but he can’t very well refuse the Queen Mother.  She is so charming, and the museum and artisans’ village she shows him are so fascinating, that he’s shocked when he emerges from one of the studios to find that it’s dusk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had no idea we’d been that long!  I need to get back to Bucky—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, you can go see your friend later.  After we have had supper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, Your Majesty, I couldn’t impose on you any longer.  And I’m concerned about my friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queen Ramonda raises an elegant, imperious eyebrow.  “Are you suggesting that we cannot safely bring the Sergeant out of cryosleep?  That Wakandan medicine cannot accomplish what even Hydra managed to do, time and time again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not!  Oh, no, nothing like that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it is my daughter whose abilities you do not trust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!  I trust her completely!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent.  Take my arm, then.  We’ll walk back to the palace through the Royal Gardens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s pretty sure that only the serum is keeping his blood pressure from causing his brain to explode.  But he is simply incapable of being impolite and, after all, this is T’Challa’s mother and a queen.  Besides, he may be capable of tearing the wings off an airplane, but he is nowhere near strong enough to present any challenge to the will of Queen Ramonda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Steve is finally able to return to the medical center, Bucky has warmed up enough that the scientists have been able to introduce Shuri’s nanoparticles into his body.  He actually has a little color, although he is still deeply unconscious and encased in the cryo chamber.  Steve sits with him for a while, until he realizes that he’s been sleeping sitting up in the uncomfortable plastic chair.  He goes back to his suite and manages to sleep all night through without nightmares.  The overabundance of rich food and Ramonda’s excellent wine have done their work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exactly as she had intended.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Steve spends all his time in a plastic chair next to Bucky's cryochamber.<br/>Natasha arrives, needing his help to break his friends out of The Raft prison.  Afterward, they all head back to Wakanda, which gives Steve a chance to get Sam's advice about Bucky's reaction to his almost-declaration.<br/>When Shuri's ready to awaken Bucky, Steve's overprotectiveness drives everyone so crazy that the Royal Family has to find ways to keep him out of the medical center.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Daybreak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Please see notes after chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>The first blush of dawn is creeping over the mountains to the east of the Golden City when Steve awakens.  He feels like it’s Christmas morning.  Sometime today, Bucky should be awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve tries to go back to sleep.  They won’t wake Bucky up until late, probably toward evening.  It's immediately clear there’s no chance.  Steve gives up on sleep and takes a shower, then takes longer than perhaps he ever has in his life choosing his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is surprised to find, when he gets to the medical center, that three of T’Challa’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dora Milaje </span>
  </em>
  <span>escorts are already there, waiting for him.  They have a sealed note from T’Challa, which they hand to Steve.<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Captain,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am sending this note with three of my </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dora Milaje</span>
  <em>
    <span>.  They are excellent soldiers, but recent events have shown that perhaps they will benefit from a lesson in humility.  It is my hope that you will do me the favor of putting them to a test of their stamina by accompanying them on a run along one of their more difficult training routes.  They have orders to continue until </span>
  </em>
  <span>you</span>
  <em>
    <span> get tired.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ngentlonipho,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>T’Challa<br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When a king asks for a favor, he is not asking, and it’s not a favor.  But Steve appreciates T’Challa’s courtesy in phrasing it that way, nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve takes T’Challa at his word.  It is late afternoon before they finish running the training route, and even he is sweaty and tired.  The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dora Milaje</span>
  </em>
  <span> guards are wrung out, but they have not once complained, given less than their full effort, or shown any sign of quitting.  Steve is extremely impressed.  He will be certain to tell T’Challa that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to return to his guest suite to take another shower, after which he again finds choosing what to wear oddly difficult.  When he's dressed, Sam has returned from whatever sightseeing he’s been doing and insists that Steve have a late lunch with him, Clint and Wanda.  It’s almost as if they knew when he finished his run with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dora Milaje</span>
  </em>
  <span> guards and returned just for that reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the shadows are very long by the time Steve gets to the medical center.  He’s half afraid he’ll be met by someone else who wants him to do something, and is very happy to be met, instead, by Princess Shuri, wreathed in smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain!  How good to see you.  Your timing is excellent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s that?  Is Bucky okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me.  You’ll see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Steve’s wrong.  Shuri does want him to do something, because she leads the way down a hallway in the opposite direction from Bucky’s room.  He wracks his brain trying to find a polite way to put her off, having to bite his tongue to avoid saying something unfortunate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Royal Highness, I would be happy to do whatever it is you need from me, but I haven’t had an opportunity to see Bucky all day.  I wonder if you would allow me to do that first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course.  I know how anxious you’ve been to see your friend.”  Shuri opens a door and turns to Steve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s okay with you if I go see him now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri waves a graceful arm into the room.  “Be my guest.  He’s been asking for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s eyes go wide and he hesitates just a second, as if suddenly afraid of what might be waiting for him inside the room.  When he steps around the doorframe, he sees two technicians, one working with a machine controlling the flow of the several IV solutions hanging on a stand, and the other waving some sort of scanning wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In between them, huddling in what looks to be several blankets, Bucky sits blinking groggily at Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shout, Steve barrels into the room.  The technicians would probably be knocked out of the way, except that they’ve both seen Steve’s behavior in the last couple of days.  They instinctively jump to either side, narrowly escaping being bowled over as Steve engulfs Bucky in a hug so ballistic it practically knocks him across the bed and off the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck!  You’re awake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mfffff mmmfffrrrrr-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve loosens his arms so Bucky’s not quite so plastered against him and looks down into his face.  “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna… knock me… back out.”  Bucky speaks slowly, his voice is gravelly and weak.  “Like… gettin’ hit by… a truck,” he mumbles, almost too quietly to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, it’s good to see you out of that thing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad… you… spared… minute to visit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve backs away, but less than an arm’s length.  His face is a mask of distress.  “No, I promise, I’ve<b>—</b>“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he sees the feeble but mocking grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You jerk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky laughs faintly.  “Heard you never left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shakes his head, smiling as best he can, and that’s when Steve realizes he’s shivering violently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, man, you’re freezing!  Do you need another blanket or…  What can I do for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heated blankets,” Bucky half-whispers and moves his arm slightly.  “The best.  Hydra… never had… these.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve puts his arms around Bucky again and starts rubbing his back vigorously to warm him, but Bucky winces and lets out a pained groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!  Shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!  I’m sorry!”  Steve backs away, hands up, looking so horrified even the technicians have difficulty controlling their smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri, who is outright laughing, decides to step in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain, as you can see, Sergeant Barnes is doing fine.”  She steps up next to Steve and puts a hand on his arm.  “His tissues will be sensitive for a while as his nerves shake off the effects of cryostasis.  You’ll want to let him tell you what hurts or does not hurt.  The shivering is unavoidable, I’m afraid.  We have a warmer full of blankets, though, and we’ve given the Sergeant some medication to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve breaks into a huge grin and steps closer again.  “Is there anything I can do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you let the technicians finish their work?  Lwazi is adjusting the medications and fluids the Sergeant is receiving, and Khethiwe needs to finish her scan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.  I’ll just<b>—</b>”  Steve steps back while the technicians complete their tasks and Shuri shoots Bucky an amused grin that Steve can’t see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any questions?”  Shuri asks both Steve and Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks to Bucky, who shakes his head faintly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When will you do the procedure that removes the triggers?” Steve asks, that note of impatience creeping back into his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri beams, and Steve looks to see that Bucky is smiling a little, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is done, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?  You mean they’re gone?  He’s safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will need to test that to be absolutely sure, but yes.  The first thing the Sergeant asked for, after you, was that we do the procedure right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve moves to hug Bucky again, but stops himself awkwardly.  Since the technicians have now stepped away, and he can see that Steve’s on the edge of tears, Bucky grins and shrugs.  “G’head.  Know you’re dyin’ to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t hesitate and, though the hug is a little painful, Bucky doesn’t mention it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Warm,” he mutters into Steve’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you know about that.  Our metabolism, we run pretty hot.”  An idea hits him.  “Did you<b>—</b>  I could sit with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks to Shuri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is an excellent suggestion,” she says, both because it is, and because it will give Captain Rogers something to do that might keep him out of her hair.  “His radiant heat is the exact kind of warmth that will warm you, but not too fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky grins wider.  “So you are... good for somethin'.  Hot water bottle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to warm you up, you might wanna show some respect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blankets… less trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve ignores that and sits next to Bucky on the bed, as closely as he can.  He lifts his arm, but doesn’t lay it down, looking uncertain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’ okay,” Bucky says shakily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Shuri says, moving in to lift the blankets off of Bucky’s left shoulder, which is closest to Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s wearing a fresh sleeveless white T-shirt and loose, light cotton pants.  That’s when Steve notices that Bucky’s left arm hasn’t been reattached yet.  He doesn’t say anything, just lets Shuri adjust the blankets, wrapping them snugly around both of them.  Steve pulls Bucky closer, which is actually easier without his arm in the way, because it allows their bodies to be touching from knee to shoulder.  Steve feels a little shiver of his own when Bucky snuggles into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heat feels good,” Bucky says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the next two hours, Steve sits holding Bucky to him under the blankets.  Occasionally, Steve will notice that the warm blanket has gone cooler on Bucky’s other side, and asks for a new one from the warmer in a corner of the room.  He could get up and get it himself, but he won’t even consider letting go of Bucky.  Bucky sees it, too, but he doesn't tease Steve about it.  Just in case Steve might actually move from his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mostly Steve talks, telling Bucky what he’s been doing in the near-month Bucky was in cryo.  He asks Bucky frequently how he’s feeling, and Bucky can’t help but laugh a little.  His muscles ache and his nerves burn, but it’s by far the least painful emergence from cryo he’s ever experienced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even mind the shivering, which he’s always hated, because as long as he’s shivering, Steve’s not going to let go of him.  So he just answers vaguely but positively, and always mentions he’s cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After two hours, Bucky has regained a little strength.  He can speak full sentences now, if in a voice that’s still weakened, but his back is hurting from sitting up without support.  He’s also feeling sleepy.  He doesn’t want to, but he’s finally uncomfortable enough that he thinks Steve must be feeling it, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna give up my hot water bottle, but I think I need to lay down, pal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs softly, which feels nice against Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You forget about all those nights during the war?”  Steve asks, and unwraps the blanket.  He stands, saying, “Stay there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes to the other side of the bed and lays down behind Bucky, then opens his arms and says, “C’mon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky happily lays back against Steve, moving until they’re touching along their full lengths and letting himself be cuddled.  Not that there’s much choice.  It’s a generously-sized bed, but it’s still a hospital bed, definitely not made for two men as big as they are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t mind being the little spoon.  He helps Steve pull the blankets over them, and then pull up the ones on the bed itself.  In a minute, Bucky thinks with an inward smile, this is going to be even warmer than when they were sitting up.  But he’s asleep before his thoughts get much further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve lays holding Bucky for a long time, fighting sleep because he wants this moment to last.  They still have to test the triggers, and he and Bucky still have to talk about Steve’s near-confession of love.  They’re both international criminals and the Avengers team is in tatters.  But Steve thinks this moment is the happiest he’s been since Brooklyn, before Bucky got his orders and shipped out for England.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve can deal with anything, as long as he still has Bucky.  As long as they’re still </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>When they awaken in the morning, Bucky has stopped shivering.  In fact, they’re both sweating, pressed together under all those blankets.  There’s a lot of good-natured grumbling and Bucky insists that Steve go back to his guest suite to shower and change clothes, while Bucky does the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve breaks several speed records, and possibly the sound barrier, getting cleaned up and returning to Bucky’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he does, Bucky’s not there.  Panicked, he runs into the hall and grabs hold of the first technician he sees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is he?  Where have they taken Sergeant Barnes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you will set me back down on my feet, Captain, I will show you,” the technician answers with a smile that doesn’t quite hide the fact that the strength with which Captain America’s gripping his upper arms really fucking hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve blushes furiously and apologizes all the way down the hall to the large, equipment-filled room where Bucky is having more scans.  He’s sitting on the side of an exam table, shirtless, expressionless as machines move some sort of sensors on robotically-controlled arms around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is ashamed to find that he notices Bucky’s naked torso before he notices how much Bucky’s blankness is like his expression on the bridge and the helicarrier.  He’s just vacating his body, letting things happen to him as though he has no choice.  Steve can’t help his lip from curling, or his hands from fisting in anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn you, Hydra.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s surprised to see that T’Challa is there, watching the scans progress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Captain Rogers.  I am sure you would have preferred that the scientists not start without you, but Sergeant Barnes is very eager to test whether the Hydra triggers have been removed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Your Majesty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa gives Steve an annoyed look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.  T’Challa.  It’s just hard to call you that.  Don’t know a lot of kings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you know any other kings,” Shuri says from behind a console, “I am sure they are more impressive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scans take another half hour, after which Shuri looks at T’Challa, then Bucky.  “Yes.  We are ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky stands from the exam table he’s been sitting on and several other people in the room begin to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to prepare.  I will meet you there,” T’Challa says, and strides from the room, followed by his two </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dora Milaje</span>
  </em>
  <span> escorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what’s going on?”  Steve asks, looking at Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t very well test the triggers here,” Bucky says, his “Steve’s an idiot” look colored by apprehension and, Steve thinks, more than a little shame.  “Shuri doesn’t need The Winter Soldier tearing up her lab.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve asks, “Where are we going to do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a bunker,” Bucky answers, accepting an overshirt from one of the technicians.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bucky’s fully dressed, Shuri leads him and Steve, along with a group of her scientists, to a large vehicle waiting outside the medical center.  Steve walks next to Bucky, ready to help him if he needs it because, without his metal arm, he’s off balance.  Bucky walks with his shoulders held at a bit of a strange angle, but doesn’t stumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re driven to a large building across the city.  The building has too few windows to be an office building, and too many to be a factory, but it’s huge and solid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once inside, the group is escorted to what seems to be a freight elevator that takes them down to a level below ground. </span>
  <em>
    <span> Far</span>
  </em>
  <span> below ground, if the length of the elevator trip is any indication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors open on a large room with desks and blinking consoles, and a large glass partition closing off a section of the back.  The enclosed room is about the size of a standard hospital room, and there’s a shiny table made of thick metal in the middle, bolted to the floor and fitted with metal restraints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is appalled.  Bucky is pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That looks pretty secure,” Bucky says to Shuri as they are escorted toward it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  The table, restraints, and glass are all vibranium.  Without your arm, it should be sufficient to safely contain you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside the room, Steve again notices the expressionless, pliant way Bucky simply allows himself to be restrained on the table.  It makes a sick feeling roll though him, accompanied by a wave of anger so deep he considers excusing himself to go punch something.  But if Bucky has to be here, so does Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa walks into the small enclosure just as the final restraint is put in place and fastened.  He’s wearing his Black Panther habit, except for the hood, which he’s carrying.  He and Bucky exchange a respectful nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you<b>—</b>?”  Steve indicates T’Challa’s suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you know why, do you not, Captain?”  T’Challa responds, his kindness and empathy at odds with the fact that suddenly dawns on Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Black Panther is here to kill Bucky if necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve goes very pale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa turns to Bucky.  “Whenever you are ready, Sergeant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could I have just a moment with Steve first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” T’Challa answers, bowing slightly and motioning Shuri and her technicians out of the room.  Once they’ve left, a glass panel slides over the entrance and sinks into place, flush with the glass wall to form a solid vibranium barrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve steps to the side of the table and looks down at Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It worked,” Steve says.  “I know it did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope so.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened, because my mind feels<b>— </b> I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s good.  I feel clearer.  Lighter, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods and takes Bucky’s hand, uncaring of their audience.  He watches Bucky’s face for any sign of displeasure, but he sees only Bucky’s sad eyes and soft smile.  He feels Bucky move his hand, and a jolt of electricity shoots through his abdomen when Bucky intertwines their fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to thank you, again, for all of this.”  Bucky looks around the room, indicating the team outside waiting to test the triggers.  “You’re the best friend a guy<b>—</b>“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that.  Quit sayin’ goodbye.  I can’t take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Steve.  You know what’s at stake here.  Lemme say this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words slip out before Steve can stop himself.  “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> get to say what you wanna say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t react.  “That’s the thing, Stevie.  I shoulda explained.  I shoulda told you why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no question what they’re talking about now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter, Buck.  I told you, I wasn’t askin’ for anything.  I just needed to tell you how I feel because I need you to know that you’re worth loving.  That’s all I wanted, was for you to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stevie.  I’m not,” Bucky sighs, shaking his head and looking down.  “And that’s why I couldn’t let you say it.  Wasn’t ‘cause of you.  It was ‘cause of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, you’re—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks up suddenly and stops him.  “Look, I could lose my mind and be torn apart by a human cat in a minute.  Maybe you could shut up and listen before that happens?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a visible struggle, but Steve shuts up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It ain’t just ‘cause I’m a—  Well, I guess that's not such a big deal if we both are, huh?  But I still can't let you throw yourself away on the likes of me.  You know what I’ve done.  What I let them do to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>let</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky silences Steve with a look.  He thinks that might be the first time that’s ever happened, but since there’s a king who’s also a superhero waiting on him, he decides now’s not the time to mention it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re everything good, Steve.  Always have been.  I never was good enough for you, but now, after—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve has a brief vision of his insides splattered red against the glass wall of the room if he explodes from holding in all he wants to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s what I need you to know.  It ain’t for one second ‘cause I don’t love you back.  I’ve loved you forever, I was just too dumb and scared to understand, and when I figured it out—  Well, I wouldn’t do that to you.  That’s all I wanted to say.  So you’d know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s face goes several different colors in succession, and he starts to speak four or five different times, only to shake his head and remain silent.  It’s a little funny, except that they both have tears in their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When this is done, and we know the triggers are gone,” Steve finally growls, quiet and intense, “You and me are gonna have one hell of a fight.  And then I’m gonna—”  He blushes and turns toward the glass wall and the room full of scientists, not all of whom are pretending not to be looking and trying to guess what they’re saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well.  You’ll see what I’m gonna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Steve gives Bucky his “and that’s an order” look and squeezes Bucky’s hand one last time before stepping decisively away from the table.  The glass panel slides away from the entrance.  Bucky just watches, hoping no one can see the effect Steve’s last words are having on him.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>If those triggers aren’t gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am gonna be the horniest soul in hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa steps in once Steve is clear of the entrance, and the glass panel slides back into place.  With another nod to Bucky, T’Challa puts on his hood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky lays his head back and closes his eyes, which T’Challa takes as the signal to begin.  He doesn't hesitate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Желание," he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t respond in any way.  He feels… nothing.  A faint, distorted echo, perhaps, but he only notices it because he’s concentrating so fiercely on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ржавый.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh.  This one echoes, too, but differently.  There’s the slightest sensation, like a dull ache, somewhere indefinable.  Bucky wonders what that means, and feels the tendrils of fear he’s been trying to ignore coalesce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Семнадцать."</span>
</p><p><span>Bucky’s mind goes suddenly quiet.  Steve, standing just on the other side of the glass, sees Bucky’s face contort briefly and shoots a panicked look at Shuri.  She is monitoring a console with several screens, simply watching, concerned but calm.  She is also surrounded by three of the </span><em><span>Dora</span></em> <em><span>Milaje</span></em><span>, all of whom look like they’re about to scoop her up and run.  Steve looks back to Bucky.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Paссвет."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky begins to grimace and something close to a snarl comes from him.  He flexes his arm and chest against the restraints.  </span>
</p><p>“Stop!”  Steve shouts.</p><p>
  <span>“Continue,” Shuri says calmly into T’Challa’s comms, looking Steve in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he’s<b>—</b>“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Печь."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky gives a fierce shout and begins struggling in earnest against the restraints.  The Black Panther goes into a defensive stance.  He does not continue with the triggers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky struggles for several minutes while everyone but Steve simply watches carefully.  Steve begins pacing, pulling at his own hair and banging his fist against the glass from time to time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough!  Let him out.  It didn’t work, they’re not gone.  Tell T’Challa to stop!”  He looks desperately, beseechingly at Shuri, who remains infuriatingly calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain, this is to be expected.  I am monitoring Sergeant Barnes.  He is in no physical danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he’s suffering!  Look at him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> look at him, Captain,” Shuri responds, doing something with the controls on her console.  “He is not suffering.  He is fighting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve whips around to look at Bucky, who is a bit calmer now.  “You said you erased the triggers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, everywhere we found them.  It is not surprising that there are some changes we missed.  I wanted to be conservative in what we erased.  He has worked hard to regain the memories he has.  I did not want to make it harder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if he gets triggered?  I can’t let T’Challa kill him.  I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust your friend, and trust T’Challa,” Shuri responds, and at that moment they hear T’Challa say the next word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Девять.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky howls, some Russian words mixed in.  Steve is about to begin trying to destroy the glass barrier when he makes out “No” and a Russian curse word in Bucky’s shout.  Although Bucky’s face is contorted, Steve can’t be sure whether it’s pain, struggle, or something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa again waits for Bucky to calm, defensive but not approaching him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Доброкачественные.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s back arches and he pulls violently against all of the restraints.  Although most everything holding him down to the table is vibranium, not every piece of the restraints is, and the titanium links in the restraint on Bucky’s left leg fail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve pounds on the vibranium glass as he sees T’Challa crouch.  “No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns toward Shuri, starting toward her with a cry.  “Stop this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops short when the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dora Milaje</span>
  </em>
  <span> guards close ranks in front of her.  Steve doesn’t try to move any closer, but he shouts, pleading, “Princess, please!  You can see it didn’t work.  If he gets fully triggered, we don’t know how to bring him back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between Steve’s shouting and Bucky’s screams, the room is a cacophony of noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s already out of one restraint!  If he gets free, T’Challa will kill him!”  Steve spins back to the glass and begins punching it, intending to break into the enclosure and stop T’Challa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Возвращение домой,” T’Challa’s voice says firmly, and the room goes silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m begging you, stop—” Steve’s voice is cut off mid-word and his fist is stilled, cocked back ready to rocket forward into the glass again.  Instead of punching it, he presses both palms against the wall, nose so close he’s fogging the glass with his breath as he stares in at Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky is grimacing, seemingly in a great deal of pain, and writhing in the restraints.  But he’s no longer shouting.  Within a few minutes, he has calmed enough that T’Challa relaxes his crouch slightly and says,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Один.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s sole reaction is a groan.  His expression is troubled and he’s still breathing as though he’s been running, but his body is still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Товарный вагон.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last trigger word elicits no reaction at all from Bucky.  T’Challa maintains his wary stance.  Everyone in the outside room watching the test breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone except Steve.  Steve is afraid to breathe.  He stands, hands splayed out on the glass, every muscle taut, watching Bucky’s face.  Bucky’s breathing slows as Steve watches.  He's been squeezing his eyes shut, but Steve can see the lines around Bucky's eyes smooth out as he relaxes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soldat?”  T’Challa asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Bucky exhales.  “Just me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the tension leaves Steve’s body and he falls against the glass, banging his forehead, although he doesn’t notice.  Finally, Bucky opens his eyes and turns his head slightly to look at Steve.  He lets out a small sigh of relief, too spent to do more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve, who has spent a lifetime drawing Bucky’s eyes because they’re the most beautiful thing in the world, thinks he’s never seen their true beauty until right this minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me in there,” he whispers, and Shuri nods to the technician who opens the panel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa is already working to release Bucky’s restraints.  He is perhaps the only person on the planet Steve would not shove out of the way to get to Bucky.  Instead, Steve bounces on the balls of his feet for the interminable seconds it takes for Bucky to be freed.  T’Challa steps aside and Steve barely misses crashing into him anyway, launching himself at Bucky, lifting his limp form into his arms and squeezing him, crying into his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’S gone,” Bucky murmurs, returning Steve’s hug with what strength he has left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Buck.  You’re free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve helps Bucky sit up on the side of the heavy metal table, then steps between his knees to continue hugging him.  Both of them are tearful, dizzy with relief, and their embrace is as much about mutual support as it is celebration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not over.  Bucky has a long way to go to regain himself fully.  But, as of now, Bucky's mind and body are completely his own.  Hydra can no longer take control of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since before Zola and that godforsaken lab in Krausberg, Bucky feels clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri and her scientists take Bucky back to the medical center, with Steve glued to his side.  It’s time for the last stage of the procedure, which is reattaching Bucky’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky is taken to a room just a bit smaller than the one where all the scanning is done.  This is a surgical procedure and the room is a surgical suite, but it’s not like any operating room Steve’s ever heard of.  Everyone is wearing regular clothes, and Steve is allowed to accompany them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the third time that morning, T’Challa’s appearance in the room surprises Steve.  This time, however, Bucky’s not sure what he’s doing here, either.  T’Challa is carrying a large case, almost the size of a foot locker, and looking just slightly uncomfortable.  Shuri, on the other hand, looks like she’s just singlehandedly cured cancer, cellulite, and the common cold.  She is literally bouncing in place as she waits for her brother to set the case down on a cart brought in and set before where Bucky sits on the operating table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sergeant Barnes, as you know, I intended to do repairs and upgrades on your arm,” Shuri begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods.  Steve frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I looked at your scans, however, and then worked with your arm, I found that I could not do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s a little taken aback, but he immediately recovers.  “Oh, well, I understand, Princess Shuri.  I couldn’t ask for more than you’ve already done for me.  My arm works fine as it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa says something to Shuri in sharp Xhosa.  She takes a moment to roll her eyes and give her brother a dirty look, but continues speaking to Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I mean is that I could not, in good conscience, reattach such a heavy, inferior piece of equipment to your body when we are capable of doing so much better for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods and T’Challa opens the case.  Inside, cradled on a bed of soft material, is a gleaming black prosthetic arm.  Where each section fits together, the arm has golden accents.  It’s obvious on sight that it’s more compact and lighter than his old arm.  But more than that, it’s beautiful, and reminds Steve of much of the Wakandan art Queen Ramonda has shown him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky simply stares at it for a moment, overcome with too many emotions to try to identify.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is simply a gift we offer you, Sergeant,” T’Challa says gently.  “We are prepared to reattach your current arm, if you desire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve steps in to give Bucky a moment.  “It’s beautiful, T’Challa, Shuri.  Really.  This is beyond generous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri begins to look a little concerned, the longer it takes for Bucky to say anything.  “I understand if you choose to have the arm you are familiar with.  It is a very personal thing, I am sure—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Bucky says, his voice husky with emotion.  “Please.  I’m honored to accept your gift.  I agree with Steve, the arm is beautiful.  Gorgeous, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes another moment to get his voice under control.  “I’ve had several versions of my arm over time.  They’ve broken, or new technology has come along.  I don’t remember exactly, but I know that they’ve always looked basically the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks up, locking eyes with Shuri and T’Challa in turn.  “What you’ve done for my mind, it feels like you’ve cleaned Hydra out of me.  And to have an arm this beautiful, that didn’t come from them, and has never done violence on their behalf—” Bucky’s voice cracks.  “I’m not much with words.  But please believe that I’m more grateful than I’m able to express.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shuri clasps her hands together and actually jumps up and down a few times, squealing with delight.  “I am so glad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa looks a little impatient as she hugs Bucky, then says, “It is our honor to help you in this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Shuri says, clapping her hands.  “Let’s get started then!  Sergeant Barnes, I cannot wait to show you what your new arm can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Two days later, Bucky is able to leave the medical center to return to the guest lodgings.  Sam insists on moving into his own guest quarters so that Bucky can return to the suite he shared with Steve when they arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s late in the day when they arrive back at the guest lodgings to find that Sam, Clint, and Wanda have laid out a big welcome home dinner in Steve and Bucky’s suite as a surprise.  They all enjoy a lighthearted evening, telling stories and making jokes and simply enjoying each other’s company.  They all admire Bucky’s new arm, which he says is much lighter and stronger than his old one, with none of the discomfort at the shoulder attachment that he’s had since the first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels strange to Bucky and Steve to be standing in their guest suite after their friends leave.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s strange for Steve, because for the last month, whenever he’s been here, he’s wished he was at the medical center.  Now, since Bucky’s here with him, the restless feeling remains, although there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Bucky, it’s strange to be back here and realize that, although only a few days have passed for him, a month has gone by since he’s been in this room.  It’s always been one of the many things he hates about cryo, that feeling of not being part of the same time that passes for the rest of the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s also strange for Steve and Bucky to be here in this moment, because they’re alone together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s standing with his back to the door, still with his hand on the doorknob.  Bucky, a few feet inside the suite, stands looking at him, small restless movements betraying his nervousness.  Bucky is pretty sure he’s never been nervous about being alone with Steve.  Not even on the helicarrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see those guys,” he says lamely.  “And I like Wanda.  She’s a sweet kid.  I feel bad for what she’s been through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s tougher than she looks,” Steve answers, not moving except to take his hand off the doorknob, only to find that he doesn’t know what to do with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s that remind me of?”  Bucky asks fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles.  Then he drops the smile, takes a breath, squares off, and says, “You’re a damn stupid son of a bitch, Bucky Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Huh</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard me,” Steve says, eyes narrowing.  “And you know what I’m talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve—” Bucky sighs and goes to sit down on one of the colorfully-upholstered chairs in the sitting room they’re in.  “Do we have to do this?  ‘Cause I just got out of the hospital, and I’m kinda beat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve, who has just been spoiling for a fight, pulls up short.  Suddenly, he’s all anxious concern.  “Are you okay?  Do you need anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, pal, I don’t need anything.  Just not up for an argument tonight.  Especially not with the Most Stubborn Man In The World™.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, okay.  It’ll keep.”  Steve looks at his feet, huffing out his breath a little as he tries to let go of the tension he’d built up in preparation for giving Bucky a piece of his mind.  “It’s just… it hurts, to think you feel the way you do about yourself.  I wouldn’t let anyone else talk about you like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it.  You always thought more of me than I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubt that,” Steve teases, and they steal a look at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky starts to turn toward the door as he laughs, then turns back.  “Hey, um… thanks again.  For bein’ enough of a knucklehead to sit with me when I was frozen.  And especially since I woke up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always gonna be there for you, Buck.  You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I do.  Me, too.  Not that you need me for much these days, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky holds up his hands.  “I just mean you can take care of yourself, is all.  Don’t need me to fight your battles for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fight bigger battles these days.  I still need you by my side.  And for a lot else, besides.  Just like always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now they’re looking at one another, although obliquely.  Steve’s looking up through his thick eyelashes and Bucky is angled away from Steve, keeping him on the edge of his vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, um… you want one’a those sappy hugs you like so much?”  Bucky asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I do.  Still not really over watchin’ you go through those trigger words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky steps over toward Steve, both of them keeping their eyes from meeting.  As they embrace, Bucky lets out a soft, breathy laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”  Steve murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he has every time they’ve had that exchange since he was eight years old, Steve challenges Bucky.  He leans back and looks into Bucky’s face, saying what he’s always said.  “Not nothin’.  Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s eyes are the rich blue of the sky on a cloudless summer day, but it’s the half-amused, half-annoyed look in them, so familiar and so much like home, that does Bucky in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was ‘Возвращение домой.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing Steve bunch his eyebrows, Bucky goes on.  “Means ‘homecoming,’ or close enough.  It was one of the trigger words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somewhere in there, the words started to white out my mind.  I was trying, but<b>— </b> And then he said ‘Возвращение домой,’ and I thought of you, y’know?  Us, together, after all this time.  After that, I just kept picturin’ you, and the rest didn’t bother me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve takes a vaguely shuddering breath.  “Bucky—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?”  Bucky asks, and it should take all the courage he’s ever had, but it doesn’t.  It’s easy.  Because it’s Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve whispers, moving his face closer to Bucky’s in a way they’ve never stood together before.  “I wanna kiss you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s as if neither of them has ever kissed anyone before.  They don’t quite know where to put their noses, or how to hold each other, or when to close their eyes.   But once their lips touch, a soft, dry pressing together at first, they figure it out.  Moving their lips together, tilting their heads just a bit so their mouths fit together more closely, becomes instinctual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s never kissed a guy before, and not that many girls, either, so it doesn’t feel odd or different to him.  But Bucky, who’s kissed his share of women, finds that kissing Steve’s firm, masculine lips is pretty much everything he’s been missing his whole life.  No kiss has ever been this overwhelming for him before, and they’ve barely started.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Steve lets out a breathy little moan and Bucky feels a hand slide up to the back of his neck, he pulls Steve closer and kisses him just a little more deeply, opening his lips just a bit.  When Steve responds by opening his lips, too, Bucky summons all his strength and slows, then breaks the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’kay,” he breathes, not hiding his reaction.  “We got some stuff to talk about, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve takes a reluctant step backward, sliding his arms down Bucky’s and then dropping them to break contact.  His pupils are hugely dilated and he’s breathing as hard as Bucky is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess so,” Steve says.  “Good night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  G’night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost as hard to break eye contact with Steve as it was to break their first kiss, but Bucky does it.  Steve stands stock still, just breathing and watching Bucky as he crosses to the door of his bedroom.  Bucky shoots him a scorching look and a grin Steve’s never seen before, then closes his door.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bucky is awakened from cryo.  It's time to test to see whether Hydra's triggers have successfully been removed from his mind.  But just in case it doesn't work, Bucky needs to explain some things to Steve.  Steve's not having it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Discoveries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Heads up:  Here's where that "Explicit" rating kicks in, y'all!</p><p>Please see notes after chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bucky can’t sleep.  He has a million things on his mind, from the experience of hearing the trigger words today to all of the conversation with Steve’s — their — friends that evening.  But overlying it all is that kiss.  The feeling of Steve’s lips on his, of Steve’s hand on his neck, cradling his head and pulling him closer, the way their bodies had fit together.  They’ve hugged a thousand times.  But they’ve never held each other.  Not like that.  And Bucky wants more.  Immediately.  That’s another reason he can’t sleep; he’s lying here just wanting while his body and mind won’t shut up about how close Steve is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve isn’t even trying to sleep.  He’s just lying in bed, one hand behind his head, replaying that kiss over and over in his mind.  He’s always had a dirty fixation on Bucky’s mouth.  But now that he knows what it feels like to kiss him, he’s very glad they’ve never kissed before.  If they had, there’s no way Steve would have been able to stay quiet about his feelings for so long.  He thinks about how sweet Bucky had been about it, asking his permission, and then kissing him so lightly and chastely at first.  Every time he replays it, he gets that shot of adrenaline down low.  He wonders whether Bucky’s thinking about him, too.  The thought that he might be, that Bucky could also be feeling this soul-deep yearning, shifts Steve’s world on its axis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since Steve found Bucky in Romania, their roles have been reversed, because it’s not Steve who’s cared for Bucky in their lives.  Steve’s health was lousy the whole time they were growing up, and Steve also had a damn inconvenient habit of starting fights he couldn’t finish.  So Bucky’s usually been the one caring for Steve, protective of his health.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why Bucky never would have knocked on Steve’s door on Steve’s first night home from the hospital.  But it’s the other way around, and Steve’s got more pressing things on his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky knows, as soon as he hears it, why Steve’s knocking.  He realizes he feels the same anxiety — with just a little bit of fear thrown in — as when he was twelve and Mary Sue Ingersoll asked him if he wanted to kiss her.  Just like then, he definitely wants whatever’s about to happen, it’s just that he has very little idea how to go about it.  This kind of stuff used to be easy, a long time ago, with girls.  But this is right now, and it’s Steve.  Bucky’s heart is pounding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s very dark in Bucky’s room.  Although Steve can see the shape of him in the bed, he can’t make out Bucky’s face.  But he’s Steve, which means he just runs straight at the thing that scares him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes the few steps to Bucky’s bedside with a confidence he doesn’t feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he says is, “We can talk about it later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t say anything, just flips back the covers with a naughty chuckle that sends a shiver through Steve.  Steve slides in next to him and Bucky tosses the covers over them both.  They shimmy around a bit until they’re lying facing one another, and Steve lays a hand heavily on Bucky’s hip.  Bucky’s wearing another sleeveless undershirt and some kind of loose gym shorts, clothes Ramonda arranged to be delivered to his room for when he came out of cryo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This okay?”  Steve asks, dipping his head a little as he waits for the verdict.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky reaches out and puts his arm across Steve’s flank, resting his palm and fingers against his back.  Steve’s shirtless and very warm, and the feel of his skin is already doing things to Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’S good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, they lay there, just breathing and looking at one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ever had a guy's hands on you?”  Bucky asks, his voice almost a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never been scared a day in your life.  Too smart, more like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shrugs.  “Didn’t wanna get arrested, that’s for sure.  But mostly it’s ‘cause I only ever really wanted your hands on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shudders at that, and Steve asks, “You ever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah.  Not to speak of.  Tried some stuff a few times.  But it was never any good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felt wrong.  Dirty.  Didn't want it from some stranger, sneakin’ around.  I wanted it like this.  And I wanted it to be you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That hits Steve between the eyes and knocks him breathless for a second.  Despite how badly he wants Bucky, he’s not quite ready to kiss Bucky the way he needs to, but he can’t let that statement go without doing something to acknowledge how profoundly important it is to him.  He leans in and kisses Bucky, soft and light, but lingeringly.  For a moment afterward, they look at each other, trying to acclimate themselves to this new reality.  Reassuring themselves and each other that they can believe in this, that it’s truly what they both want.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girls, though,” Steve finally prompts, around the lump in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just the ones I told you about, way back.”  Bucky answers, then laughs softly.  “Guess we haven't compared notes on girls since before the train. Jeez, that was 1944.  You got anything to confess, my son?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t see well enough in the dark to know for sure, but Bucky would bet a lot that Steve’s blushing right now.  He’s also laughing nervously and not meeting Bucky’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky smiles.  "Guess that’s enough of an answer.  No details; I don’t wanna know.  Me, I got nothin’ to confess, ‘cause mostly-frozen killer robots don't get much of a love life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t resist moving just a little closer to Steve, although he doesn’t quite have the guts to press against him the way his body’s telling him to.  His voice drops even further.  “Hey, how ‘bout that.  Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're</span>
  </em>
  <span> the ladies' man and I'm about seventy years behind you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not seventy, Buck, there weren't any girls in the ice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which means between the two of us, we got basically no experience with guys, and the last girl I touched was at a USO dance.  Kinda the blind leading the blind here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We'll figure it out,” Steve murmurs thickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?  Nothin’ scares you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shivers again, this time with the pleasure of hearing that note in Bucky’s voice.  The one that leaves no doubt that Bucky believes in him.  Even when Steve was ninety-five pounds of bruised, frustrated anger at some fella who’d have beat him silly if Bucky hadn’t been there, Bucky has always treated him like he was Captain America.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You scared?”  Steve asks, daring to slide his hand up Bucky’s flank, which feels every bit as good as he’s always imagined it would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would be,” Bucky says, gathering his courage and leaning his head forward so he can nuzzle his nose against Steve’s.  “Except it's you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I'd never hurt you.  Worst I might do is make fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except you can't, cause you don't know any more'n me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laugh quietly together, like they’ve done a thousand times over a lifetime of sharing beds in darkened rooms and damp, moldy tents.  Except this time, when the laughter stills, Steve tilts his head and leans in, fitting his mouth to Bucky’s.  For long moments, they kiss slowly, gingerly, moving their hands tentatively on one another’s bodies.  They’re unsure, but they quickly discover that everything feels good.  Warmly safe and comfortable, but with a heady taste of the forbidden, and especially a newness, an excitement that sparks and crackles electrically between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They become bolder with their open-mouthed kisses until Bucky licks at Steve’s bottom lip, just a test, to see what he’ll do.  Steve gives an involuntary little gasp and a soft moan that encourages Bucky more than any words could.  Bucky licks at Steve’s lips again, this time more assertively, and feels Steve open to him, inviting him in.  Steve slides his hand into Bucky’s hair, pulling him closer as Steve tilts his head and opens further, exploring now with his own tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve feels like he’s drowning in the way Bucky’s tongue feels against his, the taste of him, and the way his mouth moves against Steve’s.  It’s disorienting and somehow shocking to discover new, intimate details about this man he’s known so well for so long.  Like how Bucky kisses, his taste, the little sounds he makes, and the way he moves his hands to caress Steve’s chest and back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon their kisses are invasive and demanding, their hands becoming bolder.  Steve slides a leg between Bucky’s and shifts his hips while Bucky pulls with the arm around Steve until their bodies are finally flush.  They can feel each other’s hardness now, and it’s breathtaking and delicious, but also foreign.  That brings them back to the immediate situation and they slow, just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?”  Steve asks, panting already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Yeah, ‘m good, long as you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good.  I just never… felt, you know, another guy.  Like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna stop?  If it’s not—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t wanna stop.  It’s—  I like it.  I think I like it a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna hafta figure out what we like as we go.  But we’ll stop whenever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you?  I mean, do you like… this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell, yeah.  You feel good, all hard like you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shiver of pleasure goes through Steve at Bucky’s words, and the growl of desire behind them.  “That’s you, makin’ me feel like that, y’know.  That’s what you do to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky strokes a hand over Steve’s hair, and Steve practically purrs, closing his eyes and arching his body toward him.  With his eyes closed, and those insanely long lashes, his lips red from kissing, and the look of absolute bliss on his face, Steve looks like one of those paintings of Greek gods.  Gorgeous and flushed with lust, lost in sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, Stevie, you always been so damn pretty,” Bucky breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can't say I'm pretty.  ‘M not a girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky rocks his pelvis into Steve, making Steve whine softly.  “No, you sure as hell ain't.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really like the way I look?”  Steve opens his eyes to ask, unbelieving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I know you're messin' with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, pal,” Bucky says, and leans his forehead into Steve’s.  “When I say I always thought you were pretty, that's what I mean.  Always wondered what was wrong with all those dizzy broads I made you go out with, that they couldn't see it.   But I was secretly glad, too.  'Cause you were mine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"C'mon, Buck, I was a—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky puts two fingers over Steve’s lips.  "You were a firework, is what you were.  In a small package, maybe, but so bright and pretty you filled the sky."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jeez, Bucky, I never heard you get so poetic," Steve almost whispers, awestruck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shut up, punk,” Bucky says, feeling suddenly too vulnerable.  “You're loud like a firework, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky kisses Steve’s grin then, moving even closer, and this time there’s no hesitation in the way they begin to rub against each other.  Bucky lowers his hand to the swell of Steve’s ass, fondling and pressing their bodies more firmly together at the same time.  Steve pulls at Bucky’s shirt, and pulling it off disrupts their kissing for a moment, but it’s worth it to feel their bare chests against one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their breathing is definitely labored now, and their moans needier.  Their groping hands get more daring, until Steve slides his palm across Bucky’s stomach and down, over his dick.  Bucky hisses and gives a shudder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm-hmmm,” Bucky hums into their deep kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, Steve’s hand feels way <em>too</em> good.  Bucky’s only about half in control of himself already, between the way Steve’s kissing him and the dizzying sensation of being here, touching Steve like he’s wanted to for a lifetime, and feeling Steve touch him back.  He wants to thrust against Steve’s hand, but he knows if he does, this will be over far too soon.  So he nudges Steve instead, pushing with his hand against Steve’s hip.  Steve takes the hint and rolls onto his back.  He blinks, watching with a face full of both want and trust as Bucky slides up against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky lifts up on an elbow and looks down at him, cupping his face reverently.  “I love you, Stevie,” he says, like it’s the most sacred prayer he’s ever offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s a little embarrassed of the half-sob that comes out of nowhere when he hears that, but he takes a deep breath to steady himself.  “I love you, too, Buck.  Loved you for so long—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This don’t change anything, okay?  Whatever happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can’t.  I told you, it ain’t new, me bein’ in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky gives the merest shake of his head, still incredulous at the idea of this perfect man loving him.  There’s a little desperation in the way he leans down and kisses Steve.  “Ain’t new for me, either.  Just… promise me I’m not gonna lose you.  ‘Cause I can lose everything else—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not, Buck.  I swear it.  I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Bucky’s kissing down Steve’s jaw, to his neck, nipping just a little with teeth sheathed behind his lips.  At Steve’s words, a need has blazed up in him that suddenly demands to be satisfied.  Steve’s mind goes slow and dark, his entire consciousness focused on Bucky’s mouth and the sizzling current his kisses are shooting through Steve.  Bucky’s hand is caressing his chest with long, inquisitive strokes as Bucky indulges himself with feeling all the beautiful, golden flesh he’s only been allowed to surreptitiously admire up to now.  Steve can feel exactly where that hand, and Bucky’s mouth, have touched him, and where he wants them to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bucky can’t hold himself back any more, he slides his hand slowly down, past the waistband of Steve’s sleep pants, keeping his touch light as he palms Steve’s cock through the soft fabric for the first time.  Bucky gives a little involuntary gasp of his own and how perfect it is.  Steve emits a throaty, filthy moan that Bucky wouldn’t have imagined him capable of.  He keeps his touch light as he tongues Steve’s nipple.  Even if he’s not being touched right now, he’s still too close to coming, just because Steve feels so impossibly good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky… shit, Buck, that feels… Mmmmm…”  Steve’s moving his hips wantonly, trying to grind his cock against Bucky’s hand.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky decides he can’t wait, and puts his weight on one knee so he can sit up and use both hands.  He slides them up Steve’s hips and hooks his fingertips under the waistband of Steve’s sleep pants.  Steve’s lying, one hand in his own hair, and the other, which had been on Bucky’s back, has now slid down to cup Bucky’s ass.  His legs are spread, one heel dug into the mattress so he can rock his hips, eyes closed and swollen lips parted in abandon.  It is, without doubt, the hottest sight Bucky’s ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you let me—” Bucky pulls just a little on his waistband, slipping it down a fraction of an inch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve instantly opens his eyes to look at Bucky, lifting his hips as he does.  Bucky gives him his most lascivious smile and begins to slide Steve’s pants off, as slowly as he has the patience for.  Once they’re clear of Steve’s hips, Bucky sweeps them down his legs with one hand and lets them fall to the floor at the end of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly wishes there was more light in the room so that he could see Steve, entirely naked and fully aroused in his bed, squirming with need.  Need for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy hell, Steve.  You’re a fuckin’ work of art.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky lays back down on his side, head resting on his hand so he can kiss Steve while he slides his hand up Steve’s thigh.  Steve’s dick twitches with desire as Bucky gets close, and then he’s closing his fingers around it, tasting as much as hearing Steve’s gasp.  The head of Steve’s cock is already dripping, and Bucky slicks his palm as he strokes, slow but sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m—  If you do that, I’m gonna come, Bucky,” Steve practically whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That what you want?  You want me to make you shoot off?  ‘Cause I think that’d be about the sexiest thing I ever saw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, you’re gonna—”  Steve’s not even trying to keep his hips still anymore.  His hand is splayed, all but ignored, across Bucky’s ass, while the other is now fisted in the sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, pal, I got you.  Just let me make you feel good.  Just relax, show me how pretty you look when you come, huh?  ‘Cause you look so fuckin’ good laying here right now, you got no idea.  And you’re lettin’ me touch you like this, you feel so fuckin’ perfect in my hand, just like I knew you would—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve cries out and his body tenses, spasming violently as he comes hard, hot spurts of semen splashing onto his stomach and coating Bucky’s hand.  Bucky strokes him through his orgasm, continuing to kiss him in between Steve’s cries.  Steve looks and sounds, if anything, even more insanely hot than Bucky could have imagined.  Bucky gets a lengthy chance to savor it, before finally loosening his hand a bit and slowing his strokes as Steve starts to come down.  Steve’s gasping for breath and babbling a little, interspersed with more moans, which become softer and more drawn out as Bucky caresses him through the aftershocks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a protracted stretch, Steve’s eventually able to open his eyes a crack.  There’s a slight tinge of apprehension in the way he peers at Bucky, who leans in and gives him another kiss to reassure him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, that was—  I never felt like that.  I don’t even—”  Steve reaches for Bucky, pulling his body to himself so he can wrap both arms around him, as if to reassure him that Bucky’s real, that this is real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky chuckles into Steve’s shoulder.  “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that good?  You’re not makin’ fun of me, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, no, sweetheart.  Couldn’t if I tried.  ‘Cause that was better’n anything I ever imagined, and I imagined it bein’ pretty good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s smile can be heard in his voice as he asks, “You really imagined bein’ with me like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sits up and looks at Steve.  “You tellin’ me you didn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t sayin’ that,” Steve answers, flirtatious now, and beginning to move his hands over Bucky again.  “I imagined it, all right.  And I’d kinda like to see if I’m right.”  He glides his hand around Bucky’s flank and down, to rub it across Bucky’s still-hard cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Hows about we take those shorts off and you let me touch you now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky adjusts his position until he’s lying on his back, still with his entire side touching Steve.  He expects Steve to take his shorts off right away, but he doesn’t.  Instead, he gazes down at Bucky for a moment, still rubbing lightly at Bucky’s erection, then shakes his head a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just… I don’t wanna be like everybody else, tellin’ you how handsome you are all the time.  Don’t want you to get even more of a swelled head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky laughs, as intended.  His smile, to Steve, is the center of the universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never could draw you,” Steve mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talkin’ about?  You drew me all the time.  Still do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gives me an excuse to stare at you.  But there’s something—  Can’t even describe it, let alone draw it.  You almost glow with it, whatever it is that makes you so… exquisite.  You’re sublime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now who’s gettin’ poetic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I gotta use art words, ‘cause you’re so beautiful, Buck.  And that’s what I can’t draw, the thing that makes you that way.  It’s not just how you look, it’s… how the way you look makes me feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Rogers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re makin’ me self-conscious.  Can we get back to fucking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It breaks the worshipful, almost melancholy mood Steve’s slipped into, and brings his lust roaring back.  He realizes he’s still gliding his hand up and down Bucky’s length through his shorts, and suddenly it is of paramount importance that those shorts be removed.  Now.  Steve’s almost rough as he sits up and pulls them off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he takes in Bucky’s full length, his face shows that he’s again in danger of being overwhelmed by artistic appreciation.  But he knows Bucky doesn’t want to hear that, and he’s also as hard as Bucky is again, so he swings one leg over Bucky’s and shifts so that he’s straddling his thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He uses both hands to explore Bucky’s most intimate parts, watching Bucky’s face and the play of sculpted muscles as he reacts to Steve’s touch.  He’s never come close to touching Bucky like this.  It’s new and strange, but it feels so damn good it’s easy to just follow his instincts.  Soon, Bucky’s making sounds that Steve didn’t even know he could make, swearing occasionally under his breath, while his powerful legs push against Steve’s weight to rock his hips obscenely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t last—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shocks himself by sliding a palm across the head of his own dick to slick it with his own precome, then does the same to Bucky before wrapping a hand firmly around Bucky and beginning a deliberate stroke.  Bucky’s lost then, his filthy moans and words so electrifying that somewhere along the way, Steve shifts until he can take himself, along with Bucky, into both hands, stroking them both and letting their cocks grind together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bucky comes, he arches his back and shouts Steve’s name, along with an inarticulate scream of ecstasy.  It’s too much for Steve.  With Bucky’s come as hot, plentiful lubricant, Steve’s hands glide up and down until Steve’s coming, too, unable to stand the astoundingly sexy sight and sound of his best friend in the grip of a powerful orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flops gracelessly to the mattress, legs still curled around Bucky’s but now lying beside him, pulling Bucky close until he’s wrapped in Steve’s arms as well as his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck, Stevie,” Bucky mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You come again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greedy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t help it, ‘cause you are... somethin’, Buck.  But don’t worry, I’ll catch you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s tired, scratchy chuckle feels like heaven against Steve’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really felt something for me, even back then?"  Steve asks, his arm under and around Bucky and Bucky’s head on his shoulder while they murmur lazily to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'Course I did.  Maybe I was too dumb to understand it, and too scared to think about it, but I felt it.  Why do you think I was always around?  Wasn't like you needed me for anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I gonna have to rouse myself to kick your ass?  I told you, I needed you plenty.  Still do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re gonna rouse yourself, I got better ideas of what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve dozed, but haven’t fallen asleep yet.  It’s somewhere after midnight and before dawn, but neither of them know exactly, or care in the slightest.  They haven’t even bothered to clean up, but now Steve thinks a little cleanup might just be worth the extreme difficulty of leaving a bed where Bucky Barnes is lying naked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he has an idea.  A terrifying, exhilarating, alarming, mind-blowing idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoots a little away from Bucky and pulls his arm from around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you goin’?  You’re not gonna go sleep in your own bed now, are you?”  Bucky’s voice is suddenly as insecure as Steve’s ever heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not on your life.  Just goin’ to get us something to wash up with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky makes a vague sound of acquiescence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve rinses himself off in Bucky’s bathroom, then brings a washcloth, wet with hot water, and a soft, dry towel.  With them, he lovingly wipes Bucky clean, leaving kisses over all the areas he dries.  When he finishes with Bucky’s semi-rigid cock, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss him there, too, although he’s never done anything remotely like that.  He can feel Bucky tense a little, but the small whimpering sound in the back of his throat tells Steve it’s not from displeasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he tosses the washcloth and towel onto the floor and begins caressing Bucky’s dick, his balls, and the insides of his thighs, watching for Bucky’s reaction.  When his chest starts to rise further with his deeper breathing, and he’s well on his way to being erect, Steve slides a knee in between his thighs and pushes them gently apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to catch up?” Steve asks, hoping he sounds sexy and not just dumb.  But Bucky gives another one of those groans that Steve can feel in his groin, which gives him the confidence to go forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets himself to a kneeling position between Bucky’s spread legs, and watches Bucky’s hormone-sluggish mind engage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, Stevie, are you gonna—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to.  You gonna let me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… you shouldn’t.  Not you.  You’re too—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barnes, if you finish that sentence, I’m gonna bite instead of what I got planned.  Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just unexpected enough that a surprised laugh bursts from Bucky, making him look more beautiful that anything Steve’s seen in any museum.  “Sir, yes, sir,” Bucky drawls, still looking a little uncertain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s just bullheaded enough to take that as a challenge.  He leans down over his legs folded beneath him, and realizes, when his nose is touching Bucky’s cock, that he has absolutely no idea what to do now that he’s here.  The best he can think of to do is start kissing, which he does.  He realizes as he does that this is another deeply intimate thing he’s just learning about Bucky, the smell of him right here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve decides he wants to know how he tastes, too.  That’s what gets him to start licking, gingerly at first, little flicks that are part tasting, part feeling Bucky’s cock with his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bucky seems to really, really like it.  Steve’s never had anyone do this to him, but he’s imagined it often enough, and apparently it’s hard to get it really wrong.  The more appreciative sounds Bucky makes, the bolder Steve gets, until he takes the head of Bucky’s cock into his mouth, licking at the slit and tasting Bucky for the first time.  Bucky groans and Steve does, too, getting more adventurous with his tongue and beginning to experiment with taking more of Bucky into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s stunningly good.  Bucky’s about half out of his head already, feeling Steve’s hesitation and the way he moves forward, once he’s figured something out.  Bucky puts a hand behind his head so he can watch the miraculous sight of Steve Rogers between his legs, putting his mouth on him.  He uses moans and his hips to let Steve know what he likes, although every fucking move Steve makes is breathtakingly good.  Girls have done this to Bucky a few times, and a guy once, but Bucky doesn’t think any of that was even in the same universe with what he’s feeling now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The difference, of course, is that it’s always been Steve’s mouth he wanted on him.  Bucky’s biting the inside of his cheek already trying not to come, just from the idea that Steve wants to do this.  Wants to do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>to him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He finally has to close his eyes, because he can’t watch the muscles of Steve’s shoulders and upper arms bunch under their light sheen of sweat without losing it.  They need to do this in the light as soon as fucking possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Steve manages to take Bucky in deep enough, he spends a while figuring out how to deal with his length.  Bucky’s not small, but Steve’s determined.  Of course.  He uses saliva and angles and patience to open his throat enough to finally be able to close his lips around the base of Bucky’s cock, and it’s the best damn thing he’s ever done.  The rumor that girls actually complain about being asked to do this seems like it has to be fake, because Steve’s rock-hard and he hopes Bucky will let him do this for hours.  He could come if he just rubbed himself against the sheets a little, he knows, but the point is to make Bucky come.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not experienced enough to be able to take Bucky all the way in while he’s trying to move his mouth up and down, but it seems like if he uses his hand for the part he can’t fit…  Yeah, Bucky really seems to like that.  Lotta blasphemy happening up there, but Steve can’t really chide him right now, because he’s gotta concentrate on what he’s doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, Bucky’s muscles are getting tense, and something about the way he’s grinding his hips tells Steve he’s close.  Which Steve realizes presents a problem.  What’s he supposed to do when Bucky goes off?  Should he keep going?  Get out of the way?  Would Bucky let him keep his mouth on him?  What would that be like?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wants to find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when Bucky tries, through his gasps and moans, to warn Steve he’s about to come, Steve pauses just long enough to say, “Do it,” around a mouthful of Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky stills for a second, and his movements are a little uncoordinated when he can’t help but resume grinding.  “You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve pulls off and looks up at Bucky, but keeps the rhythm going with his hand.  “I want you to.  C’mon, Buck, trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It ain’t about trustin’ you, pal,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky thinks, but doesn’t have the wherewithal to say.  It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway, because he’s past the point of no return.  Bucky can feel his orgasm, already started tingling its way up from somewhere miles deep inside, inevitable and undeniable now.  He opens his eyes and looks at Steve, watches the top of his head and the parts of his face he can see and thinks to himself, <em>That’s my Stevie, and he’s got my dick in his mouth—</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is all she wrote for Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes in spasms so hard his whole body jerks.  Who knows what he says, or what kind of uncontrollable animal sounds he makes, because he’s blind and deaf, completely unaware of anything but the blast of ecstasy ripping through him and the fact of Steve that permeates all of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It goes on forever and he’s gulping for air and whimpering by the time it’s over.  He’s so done for, Steve’s looking at him with a little bit of concern, although Bucky can’t see it, because he couldn’t manage to open his eyes if he wanted to, and he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he wants — </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wants — is Steve in his arms.  So he reaches out and Steve takes the hint.  Bucky wraps him up and settles Steve’s head on his chest, kissing his hair and murmuring praise as best he can without higher brain function.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really never done that before?  ‘Cause that was the best thing I ever felt.  Ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno.  You mighta killed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s blushing hard, he can feel it, but he’s also smiling against Bucky’s chest because there’s no doubt that, however inexpert and clumsy, he did all right.  And there’s no longer any question about what to do when his mouth’s on Bucky when he comes.  The answer is, just keep going and enjoy it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Steve raises his head to ask if he’s cold, Bucky’s already sound asleep.  So Steve pulls the blankets over them and stays right where he is, curled up in Bucky’s arms with his head on Bucky’s chest.  He doesn’t sleep for a while, partly because his body needs some time to settle down.  But mostly because he doesn’t want to miss a second of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Morning, though.  Morning’s a little weird, because the room is light enough to see each other and they’ve never awakened spooning naked before.  Besides which, Bucky’s undeniable erection is very happily nestled in the cleft of Steve’s ass.  When he comes to, Bucky realizes he’s grinding rhythmically against Steve, and Steve’s definitely awake.  He knows that, because Steve’s pressing back against him and making a lewd, breathy sound that is by no means discouraging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky searches his mind for some sort of clue as to the protocol for this situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve saves him.  “You awake, Buck?” he half-groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky grunts a gravelly acknowledgement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.  Didn’t want you to miss this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Bucky happily tightens his arms around Steve, and nuzzles into the back of his neck.  Steve smells phenomenal.  It’s home, as familiar to Bucky as anything ever has been, but now, mixed with a little sweat and a little sex, it’s intoxicating.  His rhythm becomes a little more focused.  Then he gets an idea and angles his arm down to find that yes, he can very nicely reach Steve’s cock, and he’s as hard as Bucky is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you get off like this?” Steve gasps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky makes some sort of affirmative answer, or maybe even just a noise, not that he’s paying any sort of attention to what he says.  He’s fully invested in the feel of Steve’s perfect ass against him, and the way his cock is sliding through his own slick in the cleft he’s grinding into.  What little room is left in his thoughts is riveted on Steve’s dick, thick and hard in his fingers, and the way Steve’s moving his hips to thrust into his grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t know how long this had been going on when he woke up, but he knows it’s mere minutes before Steve’s coming in his hand, and he’s following shortly after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heedless of the mess, Steve turns languidly in Bucky’s arms once they’ve recovered, and kisses him deeply.  “So much for morning-after awkwardness,” he grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure you can manage awkward any time of day, Ace.  I got faith in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head against the pillow, but they’re both smiling too much to hide it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Steve says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.  Let’s shower first,” and the roguish suggestiveness is thick in Bucky’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you say it like that?  We’ve showered together lots of times.  School, the Army…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like this, we ain’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Things get explicit all up in here.  You're welcome.<br/>The boys may not know what they're doing, but they're an excellent team in bed, just like everywhere else.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Contact and Confession</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Please see notes at end of chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>That afternoon, Natasha contacts Steve.  Sharon Carter has put the word out that she needs to talk to him, and no one else.  Steve trusts Sharon completely, besides owing her a couple of massive favors, so he doesn’t make her wait.  But he does make the call while Bucky is in the middle of a follow-up appointment at the medical center.  Whatever it is, he doesn’t want it to affect Bucky’s recovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes out onto one of the many open-air sitting areas in the medical center to call her, using one of Wakanda’s many options to contact Sharon untraceably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve.  How are you?”  Sharon asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing well, and so is Bucky, thanks to you.”  Steve can’t help feeling nervous that she’ll be able to hear something in his voice when he says Bucky’s name, although he knows how silly that is.  In any event, Sharon’s got too much on her mind to pay any attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear it.  And thank you for contacting me so quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.  What can I do for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t good, Steve.  I wish I didn’t have to bother you with this, with everything else you’re dealing with, but I thought you would want to know, and I think you should.  Because your friend Bucky could be in danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s heart stops.  “What?  What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a man, a Sokovian national, named Helmut Zemo.  He was the leader of a Sokovian covert kill squad, and he’s supposed to be brilliant.  He’s been looking for Barnes, and he hasn’t been the least bit particular about who he’s had to kill to find him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Sokovian?  Why?  What does he want with Bucky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know, Steve.  What we do know is that the one person he left barely alive said that all he wanted to know about was how to find Barnes.  And we think he found something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because one of the people he killed was a man named Vasily Karpov.  SHIELD knew about Karpov, although not much.  We knew that he was Hydra, and that he’d been embedded in the Russian army.  Since the fall of SHIELD, the CIA has learned a lot more from the documents Agent Romanoff dumped onto the internet.  It looks now like Karpov was involved with the Winter Soldier program, Steve.  Heavily involved.  Maybe even ran it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  No, not now.  Not after everything Bucky’s been through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.  I’m so sorry.  But you see why I needed to warn you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But who’s this Zemo?  What do you think he got from Karpov?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it was, it was enough to send him running to Russia not twenty-four hours after killing Karpov.  We found a secret stash in Karpov’s basement, with a lot of Hydra stuff.  Documents, mostly.  But it was clear that something had been taken from it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’re safe where we are, but I appreciate the warning.  Or is that not all this is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly?  I don’t know.  If the CIA knew I reached you, they’d want me to demand that you talk to Barnes.  I’m not demanding that, or even asking it.  But I am suggesting it.  Ask him about Zemo.  About what Karpov might have.  CIA’s nervous, Steve, and so is what’s left of SHIELD.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sighs deeply.  “Yeah.  I see your point.  I’ll… see.  And if I think you need to know, you will.  Sorry I can’t do better, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I get it.  I mean, I don’t really have a frame of reference to understand what you’ve been through, either of you, but I respect whatever you need to do.  Keep in touch, okay?  And if you need help, either of you, let me know.  I’ll do what I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good friend, Sharon.  And now I owe you even more than I did before.  Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.  But it’s not altruistic, you know.  If I don’t look out for you, I have no doubt Aunt Peg is perfectly capable of kicking my ass, even as a ghost.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs despite himself.  “I’m sure you’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They say their goodbyes and Steve is still standing, gazing out over the Golden City when Bucky comes out looking for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s how it is, huh?”  Bucky says, smiling as he saunters over to Steve.  When he reaches him, he says more softly, “Before, you never left my side, even though I was frozen.  Now that you had your way with me, I’m on my own.  So much for respecting me in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I respect you in the morning?  I never did before,” Steve grins back.  The conversation is familiar, easy.  But both want to put their arms around each other, and neither is sure what’s allowed.  They don’t know how close together to stand.  Their usual distance seems too far apart, but both of them are uncomfortable about standing closer together.  There’s a lot to figure out.  Besides which, the habits and prejudices of a lifetime are going to take a while to break.  So they stay where they are, standing maybe a step closer than they used to, not touching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s voice, however, is full of emotion as he asks, “How’d it go in there?  Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All clear.  But from the look on your face, I’m not the one with news.  What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing.  Just had a call with a friend, letting me know about a situation.”  Steve tries a carefree smile.  “So what should we do today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What situation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing we need to worry—"  Steve stops mid-sentence and drops the fake smile, looking at Bucky like he’s just realizing he’s standing there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just about to lie to you.  And make a decision for you without even consulting you.  You deserve better than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s hope I never get what I deserve.  But I don’t especially like the idea of you keeping stuff from me.”  Bucky’s eyebrows are furrowed now, and he takes a step toward Steve, putting a hand on his shoulder like he would have done regardless of the change in their relationship.  “Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods, grim-faced.  “Let’s go back to our room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.  You’re gonna have to tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re on the mag-lev train to the guest complex, sitting side by side, when Bucky feels Steve’s fingers touch his.  Bucky’s flesh fingers are resting on his thigh, which is resting against Steve’s.  Steve puts his hand on his own thigh, so that the sides of their fingers make contact.  It’s a small, light touch, a request for permission.  Just putting his fingers where it would be easy for Bucky to touch back, or not.  Bucky feels a tension that had been building in him release as he smiles and takes Steve’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This okay?”  Steve asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bucky smiles.  “I was wantin’ to do that, just wasn’t sure you’d let me.”  He looks around at the other people on the train, none of whom are paying them any attention.  “Guess I was a little scared, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think it took half the ride for me to try it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad you did, pal.”  Bucky knocks his shoulder against Steve’s in the way they’ve both done a thousand times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still hard to get used to seeing same-sex couples holding hands and stuff in public.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand as he asks, with a slight mocking tone, “Is that what we are, Stevie?  A couple?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turns very red and looks down, shaking his head and laughing nervously.  “No, I… I didn’t mean us!  I just meant, you know, people.  I’m not assuming we’re—  I’m sorry if it sounded like—</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to take his hand away, but Bucky won’t let him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve.”  Bucky’s tone leaves Steve no choice but to look at him.  Once he does, Bucky’s voice goes soft and he gives a quiet, fond laugh.  The look in his eyes makes Steve go instantly warm.  He feels it down to his toes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t gotta make any decisions right now,” Bucky murmurs.  “I mean, we just figured out about… this.  But I’d like it if you thought of us as a couple.  I meant it when I said I love you.  Not that you gotta feel how I do, just… so you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, for a smart guy, you’re kinda dumb.”  Steve leans toward Bucky, telegraphing his intentions in case Bucky doesn’t want to be kissed in public.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky definitely wants to be kissed, public or not.  He knows it’s going to take a very long time to be able to trust that Steve really feels the way he does, and even longer to let go of the idea that he’s not tainting Steve by even touching him.  The look in Steve’s eyes is a good start.  So is the way Steve’s squeezing his fingers and has slid a hand into his hair at the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s lips are sweet and hot on his, and suddenly Bucky’s wishing the train would speed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too, Buck.  So yeah, if you’re willing, if you want to… us bein’ a couple’s pretty much the thing I’ve wanted most in the world since Brooklyn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky answers with a kiss.  Within seconds, all either of them can think about is the feel, the taste of each other.  They both forget to look around to check if anyone sees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s still a little frightening to walk from the mag-lev station to their guest quarters holding hands, but it’s either that or put their arms around each other.  Not touching ceased to be an option a few train stops back.  As soon as they’re behind the closed door of their suite, Steve’s immediately pressing Bucky against the wall, kissing him as wetly and invasively as Bucky’s been needing him to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is really happening,” Bucky breathes between kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I can’t believe it, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, there’s no more talking, only moans and sighs as they try to pull one another impossibly closer, grinding their bodies indecently together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… wait…” Steve gasps, stealing a few last kisses even as he tries to force himself to loosen his hold on Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… bed.”  Bucky starts to pull Steve toward his bedroom, still trying to kiss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Bucky, I gotta tell you.  This is important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So is this,” Bucky says suggestively, and Steve doesn’t know where he gets the strength to take a couple steps back from him.  Steve pulls his hands through his hair, trying to get control of his arousal.  After a few breaths, he turns away, moving to the center of the living area.  Facing away from Bucky, who is having his own struggles, Steve says, “You’re somethin’, Buck.  Glad I didn’t know that before, when I had a bad heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t never had a bad heart, Steve.  Always had the best heart of anyone alive.  Just, back then it didn’t work so well, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles beatifically at him, and Bucky smiles back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me whatever it is you have to tell me so we can get back to what we were doin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna sit for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit.  That bad, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.  But it feels that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sits in the middle of the couch, and Steve takes a seat just in front of him on a low table.  The table is made of a thick piece of vibranium glass resting on a small boulder of some beautiful stone with striations of color in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know the name Helmut Zemo?” Steve asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  Should I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knows you.  He’s apparently looking for you, and he’s leaving a trail of bodies.  The last was a guy named Vasily Karpov.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky blanches and stands.  “Shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sharon said Karpov was Hydra, involved in the Winter Soldier program.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“High up,” Bucky confirms, striding to the window.  “He was their top handler.  Gave me most of my missions during the Cold War, and after.  Coldest son of a bitch I ever saw.  Most of Hydra was more scared of him than me, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karpov had a bunch of papers, Hydra stuff, hidden in his house.  Zemo found them, and the CIA thinks he took things.  Any idea what he could have found?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky smiles fiendishly, but without amusement.  “The book.  Gotta be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What book?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karpov kept a lot of information, like control codes and mission reports, in a red book with a gold star on it.  Treated it like the family bible or something.  Won’t do Zemo any good, though.  The codes don’t work anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he says that, Bucky’s eyes flash with fear.  “No.  Oh, please, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”  Steve’s instantly standing next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that book has information about the location of the bunker…”  Bucky whips around to face Steve.  “Steve, this could be very, very bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me.  Why’s the bunker matter anymore?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words hang there, Steve trying to take them in but his mind fighting the information at the same time.  It’s made harder by the look on Bucky’s face which, for some reason, is suddenly wary and closed off.  The fear is definitely still there, but it almost looks like it’s changed so that Bucky is afraid of… Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me, Bucky.  I told you, it doesn’t matter.  Nothing could be bad enough—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This could.”  Bucky looks hard into Steve’s eyes.  “This is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve tries to put his arms around him, but Bucky moves out of reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it, Steve.  This is—"  Now Bucky begins pacing.  He’s muttering to himself in Russian, whether intentionally or not, and Steve picks up about half of what he’s saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that didn’t last long.  How could I have possibly thought I could ever hope to—  Stupid.  Rotten, contaminated garbage—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better not be talking about yourself, Barnes,” Steve says, loudly and with the full resonance of his Captain America voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks at him, stricken.  “I should never have let myself touch you.  Kiss you.  The things I’ve done—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what I need to know.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> decide what I think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t make me say this,” Bucky begs, his face a mask of despair.  “You’ll hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Buck,” Steve says, realizing that trying to bluster through this isn’t working.  Still, he figured it was worth a shot, even though it didn’t work even when he was actually Bucky’s commanding officer.  Besides, the look on Bucky’s face is killing him.  “I’ve loved you pretty much my whole life.  Don’t know how not to.  So quit torturin’ yourself and just say it.  Then we’ll figure out what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Bucky collapses onto the couch, defeated and so full of shame he’s doing everything he can to make himself as small as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was me, Steve,” he says, in a voice cold and dead and painfully distant.  It’s not like when they were on the helicarrier.  It’s worse, because this time it’s Bucky, and he’s doing what he can to get himself as far away from Steve as possible while remaining in the same room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all right, Bucky.  Just tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a sanction and extract mission,” Bucky says, in that emotionless, robotic drone.  “To steal the supersoldier serum.  Stark… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Howard</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stark had made more.  He was on his way to deliver it.  I stole it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  Well, that’s not so bad.  Hydra was only one of a bunch of organizations that would’ve stolen it if they could have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve.”  It’s actually physically painful, looking at Bucky so desperate and miserable.  “I stole it in December, 1991.  It was me, Steve.  I killed them.  Howard and Maria Stark.  To get the serum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve goes numb for a moment, understanding each word, but his mind refusing to put them together to form a coherent thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Buck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve moves toward Bucky, who backs away and folds his body in defensively, as though prepared to simply take whatever Steve’s about to do to him.  It stops Steve.  He tries just reaching out a hand and letting it hover over Bucky’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna hurt you, Bucky.  It’s okay.  I just wanna—"  He lets the hand touch, then when Bucky doesn’t resist, lets it rest on Bucky’s shoulder and sits down next to him, touching him only with that hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Buck.  I’m so sorry they made you do that.  I can’t even imagine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  What the hell — do you understand what I’m saying?  I </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed</span>
  </em>
  <span> Howard Stark.  I killed Howard’s wife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hear you, and I understand—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fucking smashed Howard’s face in, do you get that?  I choked the life out of his wife!  Just stood there and held on until I was sure.  Do you have any idea how long it takes to strangle someone, Steve?  It ain’t quick.  You have to—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it, Bucky!  I get what you’re telling me.  I understand, and I know you feel guilty.  But it wasn’t you!  It wasn’t you who killed them.  It was Hydra.  They made the decision to kill the Starks.  They programmed you and sent you to do it.  Them.  Not you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, that’s—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the truth.  That’s what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a minute, their eyes lock as though in challenge.  Finally, Bucky crumbles and lets his head fall into his hands.  He groans loudly with pain, fighting the sobs that threaten to overwhelm him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He recognized me.  Howard.  Said my name right before I—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve slides over and puts an arm around Bucky, surprised that Bucky lets him.  But Bucky doesn’t lean into Steve.  If anything, he leans away.  He’s still trying to disappear into himself, guilt and shame helping to crush him into a ball.  But Steve stays there, offering whatever comfort his presence might be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Buck.  You can let it go now.  It wasn’t you.  It was Hydra.  Not you.”  He rubs Bucky’s back as he practically hums to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it was my hands!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, and I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry they did something so horrible to you.  I’m so sorry—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a long time that they sit there, Steve rubbing Bucky’s back and murmuring soothing words that Bucky tries to take in.  He never does dissolve into tears, which Steve kind of wishes he would, just to get some of that toxic self-hatred out of his system, but Bucky continues to fight it.  Eventually, almost half an hour after making his confession, Bucky sits up a little, but still won’t meet Steve’s eyes and still feels rigid under Steve’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay to go on?”  Steve asks, his voice low and full of kindness that’s almost intolerable to Bucky right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Yeah, I’m okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then tell me the rest.  What does stealing the serum have to do with Vasily Karpov and this Zemo guy?  And what did you mean, you’re not the only Winter Soldier?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karpov,” Bucky sighs wearily.  “He took Hydra’s most elite death squad, and he gave them all the serum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit.  How many?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven.  These guys had more kills than anyone in Hydra history.  And that was before the serum.  They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight—  Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize.  They can take a whole country down in one night and you’d never see them coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they’re still alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Far as I know.  They were already crazy, but the serum made them like wild animals.  Vicious, savage.  And these people, Steve, they could kick my ass anytime they wanted.  Matter of fact, that’s what happened the last time I saw them.  Karpov wanted me to spar with them, to test them.  I only got as far as the first one, and he made pretty quick work of me, before they all went into some kind of frenzy of feral bloodlust.  I don’t even wanna think about what this Zemo guy could do if he could control them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Can</span>
  </em>
  <span> they be controlled?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well enough.  I heard about some brute force missions they were sent on.  But then I went into cryo again and that’s all I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We gotta stop this guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve, we can’t stop them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  But we can stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look at each other for a moment.  Steve is clearly asking a question, but Bucky’s still reeling from his memories.  He’s still flinching, curled in defensively waiting for Steve to realize what he’s done and kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want some payback?  Let’s go find Zemo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve—  I assassinated Howard Stark, don’t you get that?  You should despise me!  You should probably kill me right now!  You—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve stands to his full height and towers over Bucky, huddled on the couch.  “Listen to me.  I’m just gonna keep sayin’ this until you get it through your thick skull and start to believe it.  It.  Wasn’t.  You.  You got that?  Hydra killed the Starks.  Yes, I fully understand your involvement.  I get it.  And you need to start trying to understand that you are not responsible for what Hydra did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky slowly tries to look up at Steve, but it’s a long, difficult process to raise his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t expect you to be able to get there in a day, Buck.  Or a week, or a year.  I just need you to start trying.  Can you do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky drops his gaze.  “I’ll try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all I ask.  Because I need your help.  Can you find that bunker?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky chokes out a bitter laugh.  “That’s not gonna be a problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.  Now get up, Soldier, and let’s see what we can do about getting outfitted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa is entirely willing to give them what they need for their mission.  He offers to go with them, but as much as they’d appreciate his help, Steve thinks it’s best to keep the mission as small as possible to go in as quietly as they can.  Ideally, there won’t be time for Zemo to awaken the other Winter Soldiers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky spend the rest of the day planning and determining what supplies they’ll need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, Bucky asks to sleep in his own room alone.  Steve wants to argue with him — wants badly to argue with him — but, of course, he agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just need some space, is all,” Bucky says, speaking quietly and hunched in on himself in that way Steve’s learned to hate.  The one where Bucky’s doing his best to be invisible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Buck.  Anything you need.  I know today’s been a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, pal,” Bucky sighs, and moves toward his bedroom door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Steve calls to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bucky turns around, Steve’s wearing a look Bucky hasn’t seen since the last smoky dance hall he dragged Steve to.  He smiles despite himself.  Half the world wants to be Steve Rogers, and the other half wants to screw him.  Bucky himself has carried a torch for Steve over the better part of a century.  And yet here Steve is looking like he’s gonna puke from nerves, just from asking Bucky for a goodnight kiss.  It’s fucking adorable, is what it is, and for a moment, Bucky’s resolve wavers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I—" Steve begins, moving his hands a little like he wants to reach for Bucky but is too shy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, you really got no idea, do ya’?” Bucky half-laughs, half sighs as he moves to take Steve in his arms, shaking his head while he does it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky feels, more than sees, Steve getting ready to square off, exactly like he did at fourteen when he thought he was being insulted.  Bucky doesn’t give him a chance.  Instead, he moves in, slides one hand behind the small of Steve’s back, and the other around his shoulder so that his fingers end up on the back of Steve’s neck.  Steve inhales sharply and immediately begins to respond to Bucky’s mouth on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s addictive, the taste of Steve and the way he seems to melt a little when Bucky kisses him.  Bucky’s pretty sure he’s going to Hell for the way he wants Steve, but then again, he’s going there for ten thousand other reasons, anyway.  And Bucky’s memory may be full of holes and fog, but he is absolutely positive that nobody else ever made him feel like this.  So maybe it’s a sin, maybe he’s defiling Steve with his touch, but damn it, he just can’t stop himself when they’re close like this and Steve’s clinging to him and making those noises, kissing him like he’ll die if he doesn’t.  Which is, coincidentally, exactly how Bucky feels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, Bucky manages to keep from entirely losing his head.  They kiss for several minutes, deeply and heatedly, and Steve’s trying his best to rub against him without being obvious about it.  Eventually, though, Bucky drags his lips away from Steve’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’Night, Stevie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?” Steve pants, but then catches himself.  “Sorry.  Yeah.  G’night, Buck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky chuckles deep in his throat.  “Me, too, buddy, but I got some thinkin’ to do.  I’ll see you in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.  Sleep well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bucky closes his door, Steve’s still standing in the living room, looking flushed, disheveled, and a little bit lost.  Bucky can relate.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Howard Stark is laughing, but it’s not Howard’s laugh.  It’s harsh, and cruel, and it cuts through Steve like razors.  There’s a twisted fire in his eyes, like he can hardly wait for Steve to start screaming once the process of turning him into a second Red Skull begins.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Steve looks to Dr. Erskine for help, but Erskine is lying on the floor, bleeding and gasping for air, clearly dying.  Peggy Carter comes up behind Steve and grabs his arms.  She’s at least a foot taller than he is, and so strong Steve’s struggles do nothing.  Her laughter at Steve’s gullibility joins Howard’s as they work together to strap him into the Vita-Ray machine.  Steve yells to the gallery full of men, begging them not to let Howard and Peggy do this to him, but none of the men do more than smirk at what a pathetic little runt he is.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once he’s immobilized, still shouting as machines with wicked-looking needles and blades on them start to whir into place over him, Peggy and Howard step over to a large, complex control panel and embrace, beginning to kiss sloppily.  Howard reaches over to casually flick a switch, and then they go back to their passionate clinch while the Vita-Ray machine — why did he never notice how like a coffin it is? — closes around him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The needles pierce him everywhere as the blades begin to whine their way into his flesh.  He can hear Howard’s smug laughter even over his own screams.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>*        *        *</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve awakens in a tight tangle of coldly damp sheets, still crying out.  He’s half-sitting, his left arm stretched out at an angle as though reaching for something, fingers bent into a claw so tense it hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasps a few times before letting himself fall back onto the pillow, which feels disgustingly wet with sweat.  He’s shaking, or shivering, he’s not sure which.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re all right now,” he hears Bucky’s voice say from the doorway.  There are no lights on, so Bucky’s just a silhouette against a slightly lighter glow coming through the living-room curtains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve swears, and there’s so much pain in it that Bucky doesn’t have the heart to tease him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I come over there?  You want me to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve groans.  “You don’t have to, Buck.  I’m okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t what I asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need any help, Bucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, not what I asked.  I asked if I can come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You— Yeah.  You don’t gotta ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna get clobbered,” Bucky grins, coming to sit on the edge of Steve’s bed, just out of arm’s reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m awake now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Steve answers, a shade more forcefully than necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right.  Then get up.  Go shower off while I change these sheets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, you—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t ask a question.  Go.  I ain’t sleepin’ in your sweaty mess.”  With that, Bucky gets up and goes into the hall outside Steve’s bedroom, where there’s a linen closet stocked with fresh sheets and other linens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna sleep in here?  With me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plannin’ to.  Unless you say otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’d like that.  I want you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then go rinse off and put on somethin’ clean.  You’re gross.”  Bucky tosses his head in the direction of the <em>en suite</em> bathroom as he returns with his arms full of sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve has about seventeen reasons not to smile right now, but none of them keep him from doing it.  This is a Bucky Barnes that no one but those he most deeply loves ever gets to see.  Anyone else would think he’s being bossy and grouchy, when in fact what he’s doing is showering Steve with so much love that Bucky himself is a little overwhelmed by it.  Bucky can’t let himself say the things he’s feeling, because that’s just too vulnerable.  Always has been.  And he can’t coddle or comfort Steve, because that’s always been the quickest way to get Steve riled up.  Bucky’s been slugged enough times for making that mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Steve made it to Europe and they teamed up with the Howling Commandos, Bucky was so practiced at using this bedside manner on Steve, it never even occurred to him to be any different with the Howlies.  And they loved it.  Bucky was thoughtful, meeting needs without being asked, completely selfless as he lovingly cared for them, especially when they were hurt.  But his gruff manner and the way he always acted like he was a little put out kept it from being cloying and made it easy to accept his kindness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jones once said, “I could be swimmin’ in blood, holdin’ my own lungs in my hands, and Barnes’d still be bitchin’ at me for bein’ a pain in the ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone around their small campfire had grinned at that.  They’d all been there.  And they all knew what Jones hadn’t said.  Not one of them actually bought the Sarge’s attitude.  They knew how deeply he loved each of them.  And besides, as long as he acted annoyed with them, they knew they couldn’t be that badly hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wonders what his face looks like as he all but tiptoes back into his bedroom wearing a pair of fresh sleep pants.  Bucky’s only turned on one bedside lamp, so the light is comfortably soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s a little chagrined that Bucky’s had to change his sheets for him, and slightly nervous, while at the same time, he can feel his pulse is elevated with a quiet joy tinged with lust.  Now that he knows what it’s like to sleep with Bucky, in every sense of the phrase, he hadn’t at all enjoyed lying here alone with Bucky mere steps away.  It’s almost worth having yet another damned nightmare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picks up the damp sheets from the floor and carries them to a small closet across the hall from the linen closet, tossing them into a large hamper.  By the time he returns, Bucky’s finished with the bed and is laying beneath the fresh linens, one arm behind his head.  He’s wearing nothing but the soft gym shorts from the night before, and he looks so good Steve decides not to make any of the wiseass remarks that come to mind.  Instead, he smiles softly as he crosses the room and gets in beside Bucky, turning off the lamp before lying all the way down.  He turns on his side facing Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.  This feels much better.  I wouldn’t have bothered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you wouldn’t.  S’what you have me for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve grins and Bucky does, too, moving his arms into an open invitation that Steve quickly accepts.  He finds himself with his head on Bucky’s shoulder, one leg on top of Bucky’s closest leg and underneath the other.  For a while, it’s just comfortable and nice, and Steve smiles quietly in the dark.  Until he starts to be aware of the way he’s straddling Bucky’s thigh, and it’s warm and muscular, and it’s Bucky, and he smells so good Steve realizes he’s been inhaling his scent without even knowing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long for Bucky to feel Steve getting hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ferfucksake, Rogers, really?  It’s the middle of the damn night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.  Can’t help it.  You just feel really good, and the way you smell—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tellin’ me I stink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!  No, absolutely not!  I mean you smell good.  Real good.  And we never laid like this before.  Feels good, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” Steve goes on in a more suggestive voice, “Now that I don’t have to hide the way I feel anymore, I don’t want to.”  He starts moving his hips, just a little, against Bucky’s thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not gonna let me get to sleep, are you?” Bucky complains, but Steve just smiles.  Because he can feel Bucky’s cock hardening against his own thigh and hear the slightly gravelly undertone in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bucky’s moving his hips, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kiss me,” Bucky growls, and nudges Steve’s forehead with his nose to get him to tip his face up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, Bucky’s going to Hell.  But since he is, he might as well fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>earn</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.  So he stops pretending it wasn’t over the minute he felt Steve’s arousal and pulls him even closer.  They’re quickly back to the level of intensity they’d been at when Bucky had pulled away and gone to bed alone, only this time they’re in the perfect position to ride one another’s thighs.  Which they do, enthusiastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we gonna—  I mean, I’m gettin’ awful close to goin’ off here, ‘cause you feel really good,” Steve groans between kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky slows, then stops and moves to untangle their legs just enough so it’s not quite so tempting to grind on Steve.  “Don’t do that.  Not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slips his arm around from Steve’s back to his chest and presses a flat palm to Steve’s ridiculous pecs.  Shifting enough to be able to move, he lifts his head and begins laying a scorching series of kisses across Steve’s chest.  Steve quickly rolls to his back, getting the hint but also having trouble controlling his muscles as his entire body goes weak with desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feel of Bucky’s mouth on Steve’s flesh quickly becomes the center of the universe.  His lips are warm and soft, his tongue hot and wet, and between that and the big, strong hands Bucky’s touching him everywhere with, Steve’s a quivering, moaning mess.  He’s surprised by his own cry when Bucky starts to nibble on his nipple, using his teeth just enough to let Steve know he’s doing it, but not enough to hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanted to do this for so fuckin’ long—" Bucky murmurs, so low and growly Steve’s not even sure he’s talking to him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Bucky’s kissing and licking down his body, low enough that it would probably tickle if he wasn’t leaving trails of fire everywhere he touches Steve, and Steve thinks maybe Bucky might be gonna—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, fuuuuuuuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s gotta think about something else, or he’s not even gonna last until Bucky really gets started.  Baseball.  Try to remember what year lights were installed in Ebbet’s field.  Was it ’37 or ’38?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, shit, Bucky’s got one hand on each hip and he’s sliding Steve’s sleep pants down</span>
  </em>
  <span>…  Think about something else, think about something else… </span>
  <em>
    <span>His cock’s free now, and Bucky’s staring at it like it’s a perfectly-cooked steak and he’s starving.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Clint Barton’s middle name is Francis.  That’s funny, right?  Francis.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>And now Bucky’s got him completely naked and he’s moving to lay between his legs…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Okay, okay, gotta remember every step and the proper sequence for disassembling and cleaning an M1911A1 sidearm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s done this before, although the memory’s not very clear.  He was pretty drunk, and terrified of getting caught the whole time.  It had been sheer desperation; having to deny his feelings for Steve had left him out of his mind with need, so when the guy propositioned him, he’d just shut off his mind and followed him into a filthy alley.  It’s not a good memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, though.  All six gorgeous feet of Steve bared to him, hard muscle glossy with a sheen of perspiration, writhing and moaning, glorious cock straining for release…  Bucky’ll be lucky if he doesn’t come before Steve does, just from looking at him.  And it’s Steve.  In a clean bed, in a nice place, at a time when Bucky’s allowed to love Steve.  And, impossibly, Steve knows how Bucky feels and — God help him — Steve loves him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s not exactly sure he’s doing this right, but every ounce of will he possesses is focused on one goal: making love to Steve.  Fuckin’ Alexander Pierce himself could crash through the wall in a Sherman Tank and shoot the place up with that blue energy shit Hydra liked so much, and Bucky wouldn’t even notice.  Not when he’s got his lips around Steve’s cock and Steve’s making those unholy sounds.  And he might be making it up as he goes, using trial and error and Steve’s reactions to figure things out, but Steve seems to like what he’s doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God knows Bucky does.  All of his senses are filled with Steve.  The feel of him on Bucky’s tongue, the taste of his skin and the salty tang of the precome Bucky licked from his head, it’s all astoundingly good.  Bucky can’t think too much about the fact that he’s here, now, with Steve’s dick in his mouth, because if he does, he’ll come all over his clean sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Bucky even gets settled in, though, Steve goes off like firecrackers on New Year’s Eve.  Bucky’s a little surprised, but at least Steve warns him in enough time that he manages not to choke on Steve’s cock or the sudden mouthful of Steve’s ammo he wasn’t quite ready for.  And it is without a doubt the steamiest thing Bucky’s ever experienced.  Watching and feeling Steve come exceeds all his best fantasies, and it’s so damn hot it sets him off, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much for his clean sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they stop shouting and are able to breathe a little easier, Bucky decides that he feels a little cheated.  He feels spectacular, that’s for sure, but he can’t even make fun of Steve for coming so quickly, since he did, himself.   Besides, he’d been planning to spend a lot more time indulging himself down here.  So what he does is, he stays where he is and waits the ridiculously short time it takes for Steve to be ready again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, are you serious?  You don’t gotta—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Rogers.  You didn’t give me a chance to hardly enjoy it.  ‘M goin’ again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve chuckles weakly.  “All right by me.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Steve learns that someone named Helmut Zemo is looking for Bucky, leaving a trail of bodies.  Bucky is forced to tell Steve about the Starks.  And the other Winter Soldiers.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. From Hell To Paradise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Please see notes at end of chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They leave for Siberia the following day.  They’ve talked a little about the flight as they prepared for this mission, enjoying the idea of their younger selves’ reaction to the idea that someday they’d fly a jet together.  It never occurs to either of them to question who will be the pilot and who the co-pilot; Steve naturally takes the left seat and Bucky the right.  Steve in charge with Bucky at his right hand, like always.  Like they both feel it’s supposed to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But almost as soon as the Quinjet takes off, Bucky goes quiet and distant.  He’s suddenly in the grip of a swirling rapids, pinging from emotion to emotion, entirely out of control and just trying to keep afloat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw it coming.  Of course he did.  He’s going back to a place in which he spent years as a thing, being tortured for any misstep, and sometimes just because his handlers felt like it.  But he had no idea it would feel like this.  The thought of returning is excruciating and so overwhelming he’s barely able to answer Steve when he asks what’s wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in weeks, he feels The Soldat, like a wary presence watching everything that happens.  Preparing.  Not only fearing, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>expecting</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be taken prisoner again the moment he re-enters that fucking hellhole.  When he thinks about it, it’s in Russian, with a loathing he can feel seeping out of him to befoul the cabin of the Quinjet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck.  Please talk to me.  I need to know where you’re at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a long time for Bucky to pull himself out of his fear enough to respond.  When he does, he answers honestly.  Because it’s Steve.  He mutters, “I don’t know if I can do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Steve answers firmly.  “Just get me there, and I’ll do the rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky wants to scream that Steve has no idea what he’s talking about.  No idea what They can do, what They <em>will</em> do without a moment’s hesitation.  But he knows Steve would go in, even if he knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’ doin’,” he grunts.  “Not lettin’ Them take you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve knows enough about what Bucky’s been through that he’s impressed Bucky can even sound that good.  But he’s not fooled for a second.  “Bucky, there’s nobody there.  Hydra’s dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hydra’ll never be dead.  Can’t kill it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t know how to respond.  Bucky’s color is a frightening gray, and he seems barely present.  Most of him is walking in a terrifying world of hideous memories.  After several tense minutes, Bucky says, “Don’t let Them get me again, Steve.  I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Buck,” Steve says, reaching out and gripping Bucky’s hand hard enough to hurt, even though it is made out of vibranium.  “That won’t happen.  No matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear,” Steve says, sky-blue eyes boring into Bucky’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>НИКОГДА БОЛЬШЕ.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shivers at the sound of The Soldat, speaking to him as loudly as he ever did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they reach Siberia and touch down, Bucky has been almost entirely silent for over an hour.  He will answer Steve’s yes or no questions, but he’s otherwise not much different than he was on the bridge, or the helicarrier.  It’s eerie and frightening for Steve to compare him to the cocky, devil-may-care Bucky from their time in Brooklyn, or even the more serious, battle-scarred Sergeant Barnes from the war.  This isn’t The Winter Soldier, not quite.  But Steve is thinks this may be the man Bucky calls The Soldat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hasn’t been like this for Bucky before.  He is still fully in control of himself and completely aware of the situation.  But The Soldat is there: grim, determined and poised to take over.  Bucky knows that he will be knocked aside if The Soldat decides that’s necessary.  It’s an odd feeling, both terrifying and comforting in equal measure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve needs Bucky with him, not lost in his sickening past.  As the ramp from the Quinjet lowers, he takes a moment to remind Bucky who he is.  Who they are to each other.  </span>
  <span>“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It works.  Bucky looks at him with a clear gaze, even grinning a little.  “Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was her name again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delores.  You called her Dot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That time, Steve actually gets a smile.  It’s a relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s gotta be a hundred years old right now,” Bucky observes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are we, pal,” Steve says, and lays a hand heavily on Bucky’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks into his eyes, just for a second, but it’s all Steve needs.  He’s right to be worried.  But Bucky is all there, ready to help him stop Zemo from activating the other Winter Soldiers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not okay, not by a long shot.  But he’s capable of getting the job done.  And who knows, maybe going back on his own initiative, free of Hydra’s mind control and able to get some payback, will help him reclaim some part of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The outer doors to the bunker are hanging open.  Bucky doesn’t know whether to take that as a sign Hydra has abandoned this place, or as a sign of a trap.  But Steve goes in, so Bucky follows.  It occurs to Bucky that The Soldat is not resisting his determination to follow Steve without question.  He doesn’t know what The Soldat would do if faced with a choice between saving himself or Steve, but he senses that The Soldat would also choose Steve now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he doesn’t want to find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t think Zemo could have been here for longer than two hours, but that doesn’t make Bucky feel any better about this.  That’s long enough to wake the other Winter Soldiers from cryosleep, although doing it so quickly is a hideously painful and dangerous process.  They’ll be miserable but, as Bucky well knows, that won’t stop them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Steve and Bucky are inside the wretched hole where Bucky was held prisoner for so long, in the elevator descending into hell.  Steve asks if Bucky’s good to go, simply by nodding, and Bucky nods back.  Or The Soldat does.  Bucky’s not entirely sure.  Seeing the place again after all this time, eerily deserted, is a complete mindfuck.  He’s really not sure who’s controlling his body right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they climb a set of stairs, cautiously tiptoeing and listening for the slightest sound, a thunderous boom followed by the nerve-jangling shriek of doors opening behind them sends a painful burst of adrenaline through Bucky.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve keeps it together, simply turning into a defensive crouch behind his shield.  The position Bucky takes above and behind him, covering them both, isn’t him or The Soldat.  It’s pure instinct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heavy, rusted metal doors separate to reveal a fully-suited Iron Man.  He takes a few steps forward, then retracts his helmet so that they can see Tony Stark’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both ready for him to begin demanding that they surrender peacefully.  That isn’t what happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Incredibly, Stark tells them he’s here because he’s beginning to understand that Bucky’s been set up.  That the bombing in Vienna is part of a much more complicated situation than he’d believed.  He has also become increasingly concerned that the Accords might have more negative effects and fewer positive ones than he’d hoped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony’s always known that Steve is trying to help an old friend.  But after what he’s seen in Hydra’s files, and now what he’s learned about Helmut Zemo, he’s starting to understand that the things Steve’s done are at least as much about trying to protect an innocent man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wants to believe this is the beginning of healing the rift in the Avengers.  Seeing Tony, here in peace, wanting to help, feels like coming home at the end of a long, grueling trip.  He means it when he says it’s good to see Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t know what to think, except that this Stark guy is harsh and rude and he doesn’t trust him in the slightest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they’re walking into the huge, dark cavern of a room, the very smell of which brings on waves of visceral memory for Bucky.  Torment, panic, despair.  Crushing pain.  His stomach gives a sickening lurch when some unseen person throws a switch and the nauseating yellow glow of Hydra cryo tanks fills the room.  There are six: five occupied and one alarmingly unoccupied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s mind throws out tattered scraps of a memory.  Himself, horrified and screaming, fighting with all his strength against a group of eight or ten guards wrestling him into position to imprison him in one of these hideous tanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the chilly condensation on the glass, he can see the bitterly cold fog descending on the five frozen soldiers.  Their positions indicate they went in willingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony, Steve, and Bucky, scouting the room as quickly and carefully as possible, are shocked to hear the voice seemingly coming from all around them.  Male, lightly accented, smug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you really think I wanted more of you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sees, approaching the closest tank with revulsion, that the soldier inside has a gunshot wound directly in the center of his forehead.  Steve and Tony look at the other tanks, confirming that each of the soldiers has been murdered in the same way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they learn what they’re really doing here.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Having achieved what he did, Zemo has to be brilliant, but this plan — pitting Captain America and Iron Man against one another — is damn near perfect.  Because it’s also designed to destroy the remaining Winter Soldier in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost works.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It does work, in many ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony Stark is enraged to learn that his parents didn’t die in a car crash as he’d believed.  They were murdered, and the murderer is standing right in front of him.  Perhaps worse, he learns that Steve Rogers, a man he’d trusted and loved like a brother, knew that.  Not only did he keep that information from Tony, he’s also been protecting the murderer.  Tony needs Bucky Barnes to bleed and die for what he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky, for his part, has barely been holding on in this room from the beginning.  Now, having been forced to stand by while his victims’ son and his best friend — his Steve — watched video of him committing that hideous evil, Bucky’s ready to let Stark kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Steve?  He’ll die to keep Tony from doing it.  Tony refuses to understand what he knows is true: it wasn’t Bucky who killed his parents, it was Hydra.  Steve’s been furious with Tony for months; a few minutes of reunion hasn’t undone all of that.  Which doesn’t really matter all that much, anyway.  Steve’s never been capable of allowing anyone to hurt Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Zemo succeeds in manipulating all three into coming close to killing each other.  In the end, Stark is left for dead, battered and seemingly defenseless with his armor and his team destroyed, Barnes is half-dead with most of his beautiful new cybernetic arm blown off, and a gravely wounded Rogers relinquishes Captain America’s shield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only good news is that they’re all three still alive and, once again, their friends are there for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zemo’s flight from the bunker during the fight lasts approximately ten minutes before he runs right into Clint, Sam, and Wanda, smugly relaxing inside the snow vehicle he’d planned to use to make his escape.  A team of Border Tribe warriors hand-picked by M’Kathu is waiting for them in Moscow.  The former Avengers will turn Zemo over to the Border Tribe warriors for transport to Berlin, where they will deliver him into the hands of Everett Ross and the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all Sam’s idea, but neither Clint nor Wanda would hear of being left out.  And T’Challa had welcomed the opportunity for Wakanda to play such an integral part in bringing the murderer of its king to justice.  Ross has shared with T’Challa what he’s planning for Zemo.  Wise and fair-minded king that he is, T’Challa likes the appropriateness of Zemo ending up in the cage he’d so callously intended for Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for Bucky and Steve, T’Challa makes it clear that they are not only welcome back in Wakanda, but expected, and invited to stay for as long as they choose.  He assures Steve that Shuri is, even now, building a new arm with improvements she’s thought of even in the short time Bucky’s had the one that was destroyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Steve and Bucky, it’s a long, quiet flight back to Wakanda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s arm may be cybernetic, but it was built purposely so that he can feel it like it’s part of him.  Having the damn thing blasted with a repulsor </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Not to mention the rest of his injuries; getting the shit kicked out of him by the Iron Man armor is no joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s given him enough medication to keep his pain tolerable, which means he’s heavily sedated, but not unconscious.  His face is still contorted in anguish and Steve can hear him muttering to himself in Russian over the quiet roar of the engines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve himself tries to concentrate on flying, but it’s a brutally long flight under the circumstances, and the Quinjet is so sophisticated there’s really not much he needs to do.  He has his own serious injuries, but he also has a lifetime of experience ignoring his aches and pains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What hurts Steve much more is the seemingly permanent loss of a close friend, one of the few people he’d been able to allow himself to care about since he woke up from the ice.  Once every single person you love has been taken from you at once, you tend to want to minimize the number of potential new sources of that kind of grief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s also lost Captain America.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whoever he is now, it isn’t that.  With the shield, he’s relinquished that name, that identity, and — much more painful — that connection to his beloved country.  He’s already changed out of the uniform, reasoning to himself that it’s torn and bloody.  But he’s self-aware enough to understand that the need to take off the uniform of Captain America has much more to do with the fact that it’s no longer his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Bucky restlessly adjusting his position in the pull-down bunk.  His words, besides being in Russian, are mumbled and difficult to make out, but Steve hears “lost” and “guilt.”  He sighs heavily, looking at the blood he hasn’t managed to clean entirely from Bucky’s face.  He takes in the beautiful, dark hair that at first seemed strange, being so long, but is now so right like this.  Except that, at this moment, it’s damp with sweat and blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another reason for Steve to be miserable right now.  He swore to protect Bucky, and now Bucky’s lying here, beat to hell and missing an arm.  God knows how Bucky’s doing mentally and emotionally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gets up and fixes the blanket where it’s fallen from Bucky’s bare shoulder.   As he does, he lets his fingers linger on the warm flesh.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s exactly what he needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s suddenly viscerally clear who he is now.  He’s no longer American.  Not unless Bucky is, and Steve doesn’t see that happening.  He’s a man without a country, just like Bucky is.  He’s a… nomad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nomad.  Kinda catchy.  And it’s an identity that ties him to nothing but Bucky.  Not the U.S., not SHIELD, not the Avengers.  Nomad is whoever Steve and Bucky need him to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve often wonders whether it can really be true that Shuri is just a teenage girl.  Because Steve’s been bullheaded and argumentative his whole life, he’s physically a tank now, and he has Bucky beside him supporting his every word.  Yet Shuri merely smiles cheerfully and lets them know that they will be discharged from the medical center when she allows it, and no sooner.  T’Challa may be her older brother and her king, but he has no more influence with her.  And her mother graciously pretends to sympathize while backing Shuri to the hilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost a week before she lets them return to their guest quarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During that week, both Steve and Bucky have had daily visits with the people the Wakandans simply call “healers.”  The healers have no direct role in physical healing, however.  Their role is to heal the mind and the spirit, and Shuri is simply implacable about her absolute requirement that Steve and Bucky work with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky accepts the healers’ help gratefully.  He’s never had any illusions about the mess Hydra and his experiences have made of his mind.  Steve, on the other hand, says “I’m fine” and “I don’t need a shrink” so many times that people have started to say it before he can, the moment he starts to form the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Steve’s defense, he really does believe what he’s saying.  He can function and control his emotions (mostly), his memory is intact, so he’s fine, right?  Yeah, he has nightmares at least as often as Bucky does.  It’s unpleasant, but not something to see a “healer” about.  Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve usually visits with a healer named Rajabu.  He was once a warrior, so skilled and feared that people still keep a respectful distance.  He is missing part of one leg and has hideous scars across his lower face, jaw, neck, and chest.  He is also effortlessly patient and kind, with a quiet wisdom that burrows deeply into Steve’s heart, despite Steve’s best efforts not to like or bond with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rajabu doesn’t push.  He talks to Steve about his own experiences in battle, or they discuss weapons and tactics, military man to military man.  At first, Steve participates only out of respect, his unshakable politeness, and the fact that he has no choice but to sit with the healer, whether they talk or not.  But Rajabu is interesting and has every bit as much battle experience as Steve does, so it’s not long before Steve looks forward to their time together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One afternoon, as they sit on a hillside overlooking a parade ground where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dora Milaje</span>
  </em>
  <span> is conducting drills, Steve tells Rajabu about letting his shield fall to the floor of the bunker in Siberia.  He doesn’t bother to hide his pain as he explains what that means. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rajabu is far too experienced to ask how Steve feels about it.  Rather, he simply says, “Crabs periodically shed their shells, did you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so,” Steve answers warily.  “I think I learned that in school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when they do, before the new shell grows in and hardens, they are very vulnerable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know why crabs must do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because a crab’s shell cannot grow.  It is hard, unchangeable.  While it is the right size, the crab is comfortable and well-protected.  But as the crab’s body grows, the shell begins to constrict it.  The crab cannot help but grow into what it is meant to be.  So unless it undergoes the painful and dangerous process of ridding itself of a shell that no longer fits, and grows a new one, the crab will die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rajabu and Steve watch as Okoye teaches one somewhat inexperienced guard a painful lesson in being prepared for the unexpected.  When it’s over, Steve relaxes onto his back in the dry grass, looking up at the clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re saying I had to shed the role of Captain America so that I can grow into what I was meant to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said that," Rajabu answers.  "Me, I was talking about sea creatures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days later, Queen Ramonda invites Steve and Bucky to tour a settlement with her.  They have no idea why, but she’s the Queen Mother, so they don’t hesitate.  Walking with Ramonda and her queensguard, they’re greeted by people of every age, all of whom Ramonda seems to know by name.  The settlement is comprised of several huts made with what look like some sort of adobe, with thatched roofs.  It’s surrounded by pastureland, upon which several herds of goats are grazing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky asks lots of questions about the goats and, to his delight, one of the children brings him a baby goat to hold.  While he’s exclaiming over how cute the baby is, and the overall peacefulness of the settlement, Steve notices Ramonda watching him with an undecipherable look on her face.  He knows then that he was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s up to something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inhabitants of the settlement have prepared a meal for the Queen Mother and her group, and Steve delights the cooks by eating more than they’ve ever seen anyone eat at one sitting.  He compliments every dish, his sincerity obvious.  Steve’s so busy and surrounded by women trying to feed him that he doesn’t notice when Bucky slips away from the gathering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Ramonda does.</span>
</p><p><span>Through the trees, Bucky’s seen the reflection of the sun on water.  </span>He still isn't comfortable around people, so he's gone to investigate.  He’s enchanted to come upon a small, still lake surrounded by lush vegetation with two huts near the shoreline.  It’s beautiful and peaceful, the kind of place that invites him to simply stand and appreciate it <span>—</span> something about the serenity of the scene filling him with a sense of deep calm.</p><p>
  <span>Ramonda makes sure that he hears her coming long before she speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This place is lovely, isn’t it?”  She asks, putting an arm through his and giving a soft squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s a little nervous, and tries to remember how to speak like a polite and respectful adult, rather than the teenage Brooklyn hooligan he talks like most of the time.  It reminds him of his days in the Army, on the rare occasions when he’d have to say more than “Yes, sir” to some big cheese.  Of course he can do it, he was raised that way and he’s a lot smarter than he usually chooses to sound, but he doesn’t bother much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is lovely.  All of Wakanda is beautiful, but I think this might be my favorite place of all so far.  These people are very fortunate.  Especially whoever lives in these huts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Ramonda agrees quietly.  “They can listen to the sound of the wind, and the soft splashing of the water at night.  If they can’t sleep, they can come and sit here, watch the reflection of the stars and the moon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And in the morning, this would be the perfect place to drink coffee.  I can’t think of a better way to start a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then perhaps tend to a herd of goats, hmmm?”  Ramonda replies, a little amusement in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky smiles.  “Why not?  They’re cute.  I think I could spend a long time watching them play like they do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s more to it than that.  There’s hard work involved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Bucky says, turning to Ramonda as he realizes this is the furthest thing from an idle conversation.  “And I can learn what I need to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ramonda nods.  “And Captain Rogers?  Will he want to live here?  There are two huts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, really?  These huts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.  I had them built for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s becoming a little overwhelmed, but Ramonda’s regal beauty is comforting, as is her air of confident relaxation.  “The healers tell us nothing about your time with them, only that you are doing all you can to recover yourself and heal.  And they have suggested that you might like a permanent home of your own.  A job.  A quiet life with a purpose that doesn’t involve fighting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Majesty, I can’t imagine anything I would like more.  This is beyond generous.  I don’t know what to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you can begin by telling me why I am not hearing acceptance in your voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky hesitates and looks back through the trees toward the main body of the settlement, from which sounds of laughter and soft music drift over the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think tending a herd of goats will come close to repaying you for all the kindness you’ve shown us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ramonda gracefully flicks a shapely hand.  “I do not recall making a bargain that requires our kindness to be repaid.  I recall bestowing gifts.  And I recall our king wishing to help you, since he was unable to help his father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Your Majesty.  But—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you cannot choose this life unless the man you love also chooses it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ramonda chuckles softly as Bucky feels his face catch fire with a fierce blush.  She squeezes his arm again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My young friend, I do not mean to embarrass you.  I admit that I have difficulty understanding the relationship between you and Captain Rogers.  In some ways, it seems brand new.  And in others, it is as though you have loved one another always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think, Your Majesty, that you understand our relationship perfectly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds rather lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… it is, but—  You know that we grew up together many years ago.  We’ve been best friends since before either of us can remember.  But for a long time, we both thought the other had died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this.  It explains the friendship.  But that is not what I was referring to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.  When we were young, we had no idea that we both felt the same way about each other.  We both, um… like girls, and—"  Bucky’s too mortified to go on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, so you each assumed the other liked only girls.  And you didn’t want to disclose your romantic feelings for that reason, and also because you feared it would ruin your friendship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.  Besides, in America in the thirties and forties, men weren’t allowed to be together.  We were taught that, uh—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Homosexuality?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, that.  Was wrong, and disgusting.  And we believed it.  You could even go to jail if you got caught.  Or worse.  They sometimes made men undergo medical procedures to try to ‘fix’ them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know how savage and backward your country was.  And still is, in many ways, although my children tell me that I am wrong to feel that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not going to dispute that.  But at least Steve and I can be together now.  So you’re exactly right.  We’ve been best friends all our lives, but we’ve only now learned that we love each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ramonda nods, as though all the pieces she’s been observing have now fallen into place.  “I am glad for you.  I think you are very good for one another.  And, Sergeant… he is going to need your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I know what you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  The healers believe that he needs this peace and quiet perhaps more than you do.  Will you let me send him to you?  I will see that you have privacy to talk together here, and make a decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Your Majesty.  For everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a price, you know,” Ramonda grins in a wicked way Bucky finds almost as shocking as her wink.  “When you marry, the ceremony must take place in Wakanda.  And you must let me give you the wedding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s belly laugh rings out over the water and Ramonda notices with a start that she has never before seen him truly smile.  “I’m sure you must have more important things to spend your time on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bigger, more complex and difficult, perhaps.”  Ramonda shrugs as she removes her arm from Bucky’s.  With a look full of meaning, she says, “Not more important.  I’ve just lost my husband.  I can tell you that nothing is more important than those we love.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, she strides regally across the small clearing toward the trees and the gathering in the main part of the settlement.  Bucky turns back to admire the sunshine on the water and think about beginning a new life here with Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, buddy, you all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s voice pulls Bucky from deep within a pleasant daydream.  “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs, coming to stand next to Bucky at the edge of the lake.  “I called your name three times,” he says, smiling as he reaches out and takes Bucky’s hand, a little shyly.  “Where were you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right here, actually,” Bucky answers, indicating the lake and the huts.  “’S a nice spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks around.  “Yeah,” he agrees.  “Pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, they simply stand there, holding hands and quietly enjoying the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you need me for somethin’?  Queen Ramonda asked me to come down here and talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shrugs.  “She wanted me to show you this place.  ‘Cause she had these huts built for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For us?  I don’t understand.”  Steve looks around again, then back to Bucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She thinks we could use some peace and quiet.  I been standin’ here, just thinkin’ what it’d be like to maybe, y’ know, live here for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky turns to Steve and takes him in his arms, kissing him softly.  “Don’t want nothin’ unless it’s with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but—"  Steve looks around again, keeping his hands on Bucky’s hips.  “I guess I always thought of us as city boys.  I don’t know if I’d know what to do with all this quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could be good.  I don’t know about you, but I’ve had about enough noise for a while.  Maybe a long while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky,” Steve says, pulling him closer and looking into his eyes.  “If this is what you want, then it’s what I want.  I don’t know how to raise goats, but if it’ll make you happy, then I’ll learn.  ‘Cause all I want is to be where you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile Steve gets in return is worth anything he’d ever have to do to earn it.  Suddenly, the pretty lake and the huts nestled in the trees, even the group of people chattering and laughing a short way away all disappear, and the only thing in the world is Bucky, beautiful and happy and looking at Steve like he put all the stars in the sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Buck,” he whispers just before their lips meet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky kisses him back, pressing his lips to Steve’s and holding him so that the full length of their bodies is pressed together.  It feels to Bucky like Steve’s smiling into their kisses, just like he is, and something fundamental in the world changes in that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve feels it just as strongly.  For Steve, it’s the answer to every question he’s been asking himself since Siberia.  This.  This is who he is now.  He’s the man who loves Bucky Barnes above all else, which is who he’s been since sometime in the late 1930’s.  And if he’s now an expatriate goatherd living in a hut on the edge of a lake in Wakanda, then that works just fine for Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a traditional Wakandan housewarming, which means that the open area between the huts and the lake is filled with laughing guests playing music and dancing for the better part of two days.  There are gifts for the new neighbors, intended to make sure they have everything they need to set up their new homes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But in Wakanda, the gifts flow both ways.  For every gift they receive, Steve and Bucky are expected to make plans to assist the giver with something needed in their own household.  It’s a pretty good deal for their new neighbors, because two supersoldiers can do some very big jobs.  They’re already committed to thatching three roofs and helping to build two new huts and a barn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The partygoers are pleased with the addition to their settlement for that reason, and also because the men are favorites of the royal family, who attend the party.  But both Steve and Bucky were raised in a more polite age, by parents who drilled manners into them.  They’re genuinely interested in everyone, and they’re already beginning to learn Xhosa.  So they quickly become well-liked by all of their new neighbors for themselves, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the two seem world-weary and a little bit broken, well, they’ve been through a lot.  Since they’re clearly a couple, it’s not entirely clear why they have separate huts, but the huts are close enough together that it wouldn’t take much to combine them.  Besides, since the Queen Mother is the one who requested that two huts be built, no one asks any questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a ridiculous amount of food and enough drink that even Okoye gets silly, which Shuri assures everyone is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.  It’s a happy event, and a great party enjoyed by everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, the other former Avengers are there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s been spending time with one of Okoye’s lieutenants, which is fuel for endless teasing from his friends, although they’re actually happy for him and glad to see something good happen for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint, however, is a little subdued about it.  He’s missing Natasha.  Things have been very strained between them since the airport battle, even after she helped rescue him from The Raft.  He wants her back, and he’s seriously considering returning to the U.S.  Not to Stark Tower, which he just can’t consider.  But he’s been thinking about maybe buying some land, a small farm somewhere, and seeing the new life Steve and Bucky are beginning has pretty much decided him.  He can live quietly off the grid without much chance of being found and prosecuted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, the housewarming is turning into a little bit of a going-away party, in that Wanda is leaving Wakanda, too.  She’s been communicating with Vision, who has realized that he’s less committed to the Avengers than he is to Wanda.  She won’t return to what she considers Tony Stark’s custody, but Vision’s not asking her to.  He just wants to be with her; he’ll take whatever terms she offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The healers with whom Steve and Bucky work have been invited, but all felt it more appropriate to decline.  They’re extremely pleased at the move, however, particularly Rajabu and his colleagues who work with Steve.  They all agree that making a home in Wakanda and removing himself from the constant trauma of fighting is an excellent idea and, to show their support, they’ve gifted him with several goats.  Ramonda makes sure he understands the significance of the gift and the proper response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve is still either unwilling or unable to recognize how deeply wounded he is by all that he’s been through.  It began with his complete physical transformation, then continued through the trauma of Bucky’s fall from the train, and his own crash in the Valkyrie.  Waking up nearly seventy years in the future was every bit as traumatic for him as the Chitauri invasion.  Finally, he’d learned that Bucky survived his fall to be left for dead, captured, tortured, and mentally warped into The Winter Soldier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any one of those things could have crushed him, yet he’s still the same scrappy, relentless streetfighter he’s always been.  Until Steve understands that admitting he’s hurt isn’t admitting defeat, the healers are fighting an uphill battle.  Fortunately, they’re fighters, too.  And the best thing they have going for them is Steve’s relationship with Bucky, who has no illusions about his own brokenness, and works hard with his own team of healers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the healers are very, very pleased with Steve’s decision to settle with Bucky in the little village by the lake.  It’s a good choice, too: a settlement too small to even have a name, where the most exciting thing to happen is the birth of a new goat.  When they call it anything at all, the inhabitants just call the little settlement “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ilali</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” which simply means “the village.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the party is over and the guests have dispersed, Steve and Bucky have fully-furnished huts and a small herd of goats for which they’re responsible.  Wakandans use the word ‘hut’ to describe the structures that make up the settlement but, in Wakanda, the word has a different meaning than it would in a less advanced country.  In Wakanda, a hut has electricity supplied by the hydrogen fuel cells built into its base.  That electricity powers lights, electronics and appliances, provides hot water, and runs the system that heats and cools the hut.  As a result, a Wakandan hut is a unique combination of rustic and high tech.  Steve and Bucky decide it’s exactly what they need to feed both their need for simplicity and quiet, and their need for the comforts of the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Early on the first morning after the party, Steve and Bucky meet Tatenda, one of the teenage boys from the settlement, for what they begin to call “goat school.”  They quickly learn that there is far more involved in caring for goats than they would ever have believed.  Tatenda is a tall, thin young man, gregarious and eager to laugh.  He grew up with goats and can’t remember ever not knowing how to tend them, so he finds his students’ ignorance hilarious.  But they’re eager and quick to learn, and they make no secret of the healthy respect they soon develop for Tatenda’s knowledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tatenda doesn’t mind being asked to teach his trade to the newcomers.  In fact, he’s proud that he gets to spend time with them, given their popularity and especially their reputations as renowned warriors.  But he hadn’t expected Steve and Bucky to treat him as more than just a kid, and would never have imagined that they’d actually treat him as a respected equal.  That would be heady stuff for any teenage boy, and Tatenda’s no exception.  By the end of the first day, he’s got a bad case of hero-worship and he’d do pretty much anything for either of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At night, the goats are penned in a roughly-fenced enclosure with a barn made of the same material as their huts.  Both the barn and the fence need maintenance because they haven’t been used in a while.  Between tending the goats and working on the enclosure, there’s a lot to do, and it’s enjoyable, honest work that leaves Steve and Bucky pleasantly tired at the end of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a good thing there’s lots of food left over from the party, because they’re both too tired to do much about dinner beyond forage for whatever’s already made.  Afterward, they decide to go for a swim to get clean and cool off.  It’s full dark, so they don’t bother with swim trunks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s floating on his back, just looking up at the stars and thinking about the day, when he suddenly feels strong arms pull him underwater.  He comes up sputtering, already reaching out to grab Steve and dunk him back.  They forget to be respectfully quiet as they engage in an all-out aquatic wrestling match that involves as much laughing as it does trash talk.  It’s every bit as energetic as any water battle they had at the beach growing up, especially now that they’re so evenly matched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The difference is, this time the battle ends before they’re both waterlogged and too tired to horse around anymore.  Their grappling becomes more languid and intimate, shoves become caresses, and when their legs entwine, it’s not a prelude to dunking but instead becomes a destination in itself.  Soon they’ve forgotten they’re supposed to be playing, because their bodies are flush against each other and there’s nothing between them.  The water is cool, the difference between it and the heat of their skin outlining everywhere they’re touching.  Their embraces are entirely different from anything they’ve ever experienced with anyone else.   They’re roughly the same size, both bodies hard and muscular, entirely male and perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s arms wind around Bucky’s body, hands splayed on his back to contact as much of his skin as possible as he tilts his head to an angle that has become second nature now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s arm is around Steve’s shoulder, holding tightly as he wraps one leg around Steve’s hips.  His other hand moves to cup the back of Steve’s head tenderly, at least at first.  But the sweet kiss doesn’t stay that way.  He can’t help licking at Steve’s lips, which open eagerly, giving him access.  The kiss becomes fiery and demanding in that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s equally passionate.  Today’s been the first full day of their new life, and it was a good day.  They’re steps away from their own home (or homes, although that’s a formality).  It’s quiet and beautiful here; they’re safe and together.  They’re both feeling awash in gratitude and love, as well as a sense of celebration that they’ve somehow found their way back to each other and now forward to this new, exquisite level of their bond.  They’ve both suffered hideous, aching losses.  But it’s brought them to this moment and, in this moment, they are entirely at peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is not to say that they’re content or fulfilled.  At least not right now.  There’s a desperation to the way their mouths are exploring and pleasuring one another, and a growing intensity to the need in their gasps and moans.  Although there is no one nearby, the dark and the water hide the obscene pressing and grinding of their lower bodies as Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s waist.  They take advantage of the buoyancy of the water, which makes it effortless to position and move themselves against each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you, Stevie,” Bucky manages to gasp between deep, needy kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too,” Steve pants, and begins walking toward the shore as he returns to sliding his tongue along Bucky’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches a bank on the edge of the little lake instead of going to a place where he could simply walk out.  They haven’t been able to make love in the three nights they’ve been here, because there have been people right outside the hut the entire time, and the door is covered only by a cloth.  They’re more than ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water is thigh-deep, the bank shoulder-high and sloping.  Steve gently sets Bucky against it so that his back is nestled in the soft foliage at the edge of the lake and Steve can lay him back, leaning over him.  He doesn’t stop rubbing against Bucky, sliding their full erections gloriously along one another and pressing their hips firmly together.  This position allows him to use his hands and mouth to savor Bucky’s neck and shoulders, his broad, muscular chest, his hard, contoured torso, all the while continuing to use his hips to drive them both ever closer to climax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much,” Bucky groans, surrendering his body to Steve even as he continues to thrust demandingly against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too, Buck.  So glad we’re here together.  So glad—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky keeps his eyes open, looking up at the sky splashed with stars and the silhouette of the trees against it, listening to the occasional soft bleat of a goat on the other side of the settlement.  But when Steve starts to breathe helpless whispered exclamations as rolls of his hips become harder and jerkier, he focuses only on Steve.  Steve’s upper body is outlined against the stars, and his face is close enough that Bucky can see his enraptured expression clearly.  Everything about him is so beautiful that Bucky whispers a reverent, “I love you, Stevie” as he comes, clutching Steve to him with arms and legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve follows almost immediately, mind entirely whited out by the intensity of his pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s minutes before they come back to themselves.  The night breeze is a little cool blowing across the drops of water on Steve’s back, and Bucky’s just noticing that the foliage is a little prickly in places.  Steve begins to rise, pulling Bucky with him, but Bucky only lets him get as far as standing upright.  He kisses Steve for a few minutes like that before pulling away just enough so they can see each other’s faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think tonight would be the perfect night to try fucking,” he says, and his voice is tender although the words are blunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, too,” Steve answers, kissing Bucky again.  “I been kinda waiting for this moment.  I thought it’d be nice to do it for the first time here, in our new home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sappy little shit,” Bucky chuckles fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I noticed you waited until now, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe.   Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a sappy little shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess you like ‘em sappy, then, ‘cause you love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky rolls his eyes and drops his arms from around Steve, smiling.  “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve used the sleeping platform inside the closest hut for the three nights they’ve lived here so far.  It’s plenty big for both of them, soft and covered with luxurious linens given to them as housewarming gifts.  They make only a cursory effort to dry off and towel the water from their hair before they’re on each other again, falling to the mattress with Bucky on top of Steve, his legs straddling Steve’s hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kiss deeply for a while, letting the excitement and anticipation rebuild.  It doesn’t take long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you want to do this?” Bucky asks, moving his lips from Steve’s mouth to begin a series of open-mouthed kisses along his jawline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean, like, who, uh—" Steve whispers.  Whether he’s quiet out of distraction from Bucky’s mouth on his neck or discomfort with talking out loud about having sex together, neither one of them knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who fucks who,” Bucky growls, a little amused and a lot aroused that they’re finally having this conversation.  “I’m game either way, so—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Steve a few breaths to answer, like he hasn’t thought about it before.  Bucky is positive that’s not the case, but it’s Stevie, and he’s always been modest about sex.  Bucky understands that it’s a little hard to express his desires out loud.  Besides, their friends may take their relationship in stride, but Steve and Bucky themselves are still working through their own long-ingrained ideas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna… wanna try it both ways.  But maybe you first?  I got to suck you first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky laughs out loud at that.  “Leave it to Captain America to ensure complete fairness in fucking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ain’t him anymore,” Steve says, quietly but sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks up from where he’s been licking at Steve’s nipple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We ever gonna talk about that?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not right now.  As you were, Sergeant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Bucky chuckles, and Steve can feel as well as hear his grin.  He’s glad.  Now is definitely not the time for that conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky keeps going lower with his hands and his mouth, which is very soon all Steve can think about.  Especially when he feels Bucky’s mouth on his dick, a sensation so overwhelming he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.  The idea alone is enough to get him hard, and the feeling…  Steve’s still trying to learn how to last as long as he wants to.  It’s just too good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem becomes much more acute when he feels Bucky’s fingers brush lightly across his hole.  They’ve had their fingers inside each other before, even learned how to find that spot they’ve both read about that sends jets of lava through your body.  It’s weird and hot and feels so insanely good once things get going that Bucky’s even managed to make Steve come like this once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the idea that it’s gonna be Bucky’s cock inside him soon is pushing Steve to a whole new degree of difficulty holding back his orgasm.   If he hadn’t already come once, there’d be no way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels the cool slide of Bucky’s finger, which tells Steve that Bucky’s pulled the lube out from wherever it had been, while Steve’s been distracted by his tongue.  Steve groans, which Bucky takes as permission to gently twist his finger so that the tip slides in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Bucky murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nguh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s finger stops moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’M good, ‘m good,” Steve gasps, and has to bite his tongue when Bucky chuckles with most of Steve’s cock back in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s extremely gentle with him.  He takes things awful damn slow.  Too slow.  By the time he has his first finger fully inside, Steve is actually driven so insane by the perfectly-balanced sensations of pleasure and frustration that he has to pull his brain together enough to grunt, “More!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky increases the motion of his finger, pulling it almost out and then sliding it back in to the base, and obeys the demands of Steve’s hips to speed up.  It’s still too long before he drizzles more lube onto his fingers and around Steve’s hole before finally beginning to work in a second finger.  By then, Steve’s mewling and thrashing, and Bucky’s just licking and running his lips over his cock rather than taking it into his mouth, to help Steve keep from coming too soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he changes his mind.  Seeing Steve this completely wrecked and desperate is so fucking good that Bucky decides he needs to see Steve come almost as much as Steve needs to do it.  Besides, another orgasm will mean Bucky can fuck him for longer when the time comes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want you to come for me,” Bucky croaks, then takes Steve in as deeply as he can while slowly fucking him on two fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!  Wanna come with you in me,” Steve whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky pulls off again.  “You will, don’t worry.  Ain’t gonna miss out on that.  I just wanna see you go off, is all.  You’re so fuckin’ sexy, Steve, you got no fuckin’ idea.  I need to see you, need to taste you.  C’mon.  That way we can go longer once I’m in you, huh?  C’mon, Stevie, come for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s—” Steve gasps.  “That’s what you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Please, Stevie.  Do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, too, then.  Lemme—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna take my fingers outta you.  You feel so hot ‘n tight.  Wanna fuck you on my fingers while you come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rub on me, then.  Somethin’—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky makes an impatient sound, but he readjusts and takes his cock into his metal hand.  With that, he slides his mouth back down Steve’s cock, taking it as far into his throat as he can, and speeds up with his fingers, matching the pace with his lips.  Steve comes almost immediately.  He lets out an incoherent shout that’s half scream, and his hips buck with the intensity of his climax.  Combined with the feel and taste of Steve’s orgasm, Bucky strokes out his own mere seconds later.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, yeah.  Definitely one of Bucky’s better ideas.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay there, panting, for a few minutes, while Bucky just slowly and gently continues to twist his fingers a bit, murmuring praise and nuzzling at the insides of Steve’s thighs.  They both know by now that the serum will allow them to begin again as soon as they catch their breath a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feels so good, you inside me.”  Steve moans softly, already moving his hips again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gives a full-body shiver at that.  While he’s like this, spent and relaxed, Bucky squeezes a little more lube onto his fingers and slowly, cautiously slips in a third.  Steve groans loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That a good sound, or a bad sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Steve grunts.  He’s quickly returning to the point where just feeling what Bucky’s doing to him is all he has the bandwidth to process.  Bucky smiles to himself, knowing Steve well enough sexually by now to recognize it.  He’s proud of himself for being able to overwhelm Steve with pleasure like this.  Part of that is his deep love, part is just part of who Bucky’s always been, and part — a part he doesn’t acknowledge to himself right now — is his way of trying to deserve being here like this with Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Steve’s writhing around Bucky’s fingers, fully hard again, he finally gives up on trying to encourage Bucky with his hands to move back up the bed.  It takes him a few tries to form the words and get them out around his ragged breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Buck.  Let’s do it now.  Wanna know what it’s like when it’s your cock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s been needing the same thing, but he’s determined to do this right.  Based on his limited knowledge and experience, even with Steve, he suspects it might kind of hurt, and he really doesn’t want to hurt Steve.  So he’s been waiting for some kind of signal to let him know when Steve’s ready, and he guesses this is probably it.  Besides, he himself is achingly hard again, and about half of his brain is as focused on what it’ll feel like as the other half is focused on what he’s currently doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps his fingers going as he coats his cock with lube and then kisses his way up Steve’s body.  Steve’s so flushed with desire his skin feels almost hot, and there’s a tension building in him as Bucky’s mouth moves upward.  When they’re again face to face, Steve pulls Bucky’s head toward him to claim his mouth, sloppily and desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think you gotta relax for this,” Bucky says in a husky, breathy whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m relaxed, I just can’t wait any more.  I want you so bad—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky slips his fingers from Steve and moves until he’s kneeling between Steve’s legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I turn over, or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t wanna do it like that.  Not this time.  Wanna see you n’ kiss you.  Just—"  Bucky slides his hands under Steve’s thighs and gently pulls upward.  Steve instinctively braces his feet on the sides of Bucky’s back and Bucky shifts into position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve hisses and Bucky gasps when the tip of Bucky’s cock touches Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you’re ready, Stevie?  Want this more’n anything, but I don’t wanna hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just please, do it!”  Steve punctuates his words with a sharp tilt of his hips, trying to push onto Bucky’s dick.  The pressure isn’t enough to breach him, but it’s enough that Bucky’s suddenly at the end of his ability to resist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he murmurs, kissing Steve as he takes hold of himself and presses his head against Steve’s pucker.  “Okay.  Tell me if you want me to stop—”  Bucky gasps into Steve’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Steve actually needs Bucky to go as slowly as he does.  There’s a deep burn, intense enough that he makes a strangled sound, which causes Bucky to freeze where he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhhh, relax, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs into his ear, and hearing Bucky call him that sends fresh tingles all over Steve’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’M good, I promise.  ‘S just, um… a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky wouldn’t be Bucky if he just let that go, even at a time like this.  “Gee, thanks, Soldier.  You’re not so bad yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs, if a little stiffly.  “Jerk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.  You just tell me what you need.  I got you.  Ain’t gotta rush anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, know what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re already in.”  Steve pulls his head to the side so he can see Bucky’s face.  “Not all the way yet, but—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky understands Steve’s sweet little smile, because he feels the same way.  They’ve fucked now.  Sure, they’ve just started, and only the tip of Bucky’s cock is inside Steve.  But they’re lovers now.  Irreversibly and permanently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you,” Bucky whispers, and kisses Steve’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.  Wanted this since I can remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve rocks his hips just a little, sliding Bucky’s dick further inside him.  It’s easier than the initial entrance was, but it’s still going to take some getting used to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’S a lot tighter than a girl,” Bucky groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, far from it.  Feels like fuckin’ paradise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those are the last coherent words they speak for a long time, as they kiss deeply and messily, rocking their hips slowly, bit by bit, until Bucky’s fully inside Steve and practically vibrating with the need to move.  He doesn’t, though.  He’s done some research on this and he knows he needs to wait for Steve.  The stuff he read said to let your partner get used to the stretch and, when they do, they’ll naturally just start to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, Stevie’s always been special.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Steve does is, after a few minutes, he kicks Bucky in the flank and says, “You gonna fuck me, or you just gonna lay there all day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s laughing as he starts to obey, because lovers or not, he supposes they’ll always just be the same dumb jerks they’ve been their whole lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s slow and careful, but it’s also the best damn thing either of them has ever done.  Bucky’s kind of glad for the need to watch how he moves inside Steve, because if he didn’t have that distraction, just the idea that he’s inside Steve at all would set him off in record time.  But it still doesn’t last long, it’s just too fucking perfect.  It’s only several long, drawn-out thrusts before Bucky’s breath is catching and he’s making a noise he’s never heard himself make, hissing out broken fragments of words until Steve gasps, “C’mon, Buck,” and that’s all it takes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s shuddering and crying out, coming unbelievably hard despite the two releases he’s already had, practically whining Steve’s name and calling him “Sweetheart” and “Baby” and “Doll” like he can’t think of any endearment good enough for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s still hard, trying to hold it together while he works Bucky through his orgasm.  But he’s close.  So close, he’s gulping in air and every muscle is shivering.  When Bucky begins to come back to himself, he asks, “Whadda ya’ need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve takes Bucky’s hand and wraps it around his cock, and in three pumps, he’s rocketing over the precipice.  Between Bucky still inside him and having come twice already, it’s a feeling more intense than anything he’s ever experienced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time it’s over, they’re both completely spent.  Fortunately, Steve’s thought to stash a towel between the edge of the sleeping platform and the wall of the hut, because neither of them think their legs would support them right now.  They do the minimum possible cleanup and are both sleeping soundly within a minute of settling back into each other’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><span>НИКОГДА БОЛЬШЕ      </span> <span>Never again</span></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Steve and Bucky go to Siberia to try to stop Zemo from activating the other Winter Soldiers, only to find that the trap they fall into isn't the one they feared.  Then they return to Wakanda to begin a life of peace and quiet together.  Always together.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Belonging</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Please see notes at end of chapter for chapter summary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky have lived in the little village for a few months now.  Tatenda has stopped making fun of them for their lack of goatherding skills, because they’ve been caring for their little herd on their own for about a month now.  They only need to consult him from time to time, although he keeps a close eye on their operation.  He’s proud of their success, because it’s his success, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t stopped making fun of them entirely, though.  He can’t, when it’s so much fun and they make it so easy.  The villagers have taken to calling them </span>
  <em>
    <span>abo basandul’ ukutshata</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Tatenda makes sure they know that it means “the newlyweds.”  They’re discreet, especially Steve, but they’re pretty much incapable of hiding how they feel about each other.  They’re also making up for eighty-odd years of being kept apart.  But Wakandans have a very different and more relaxed attitude toward sex than Steve and Bucky grew up with, especially when the partners are both men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of that means that Tatenda can shock and embarrass Steve and Bucky pretty much at will.  So he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I am eighteen.  I am supposed to be obsessed with sex.  You two are older than anyone else in this settlement, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ugogo </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bathandwa.  You don’t see her sneaking off into the trees with anyone in the middle of the afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve, of course, blushes fiercely and pretends to be entirely absorbed in the bundles of dry sedge he’s tying onto the frame of the roof he’s crouched atop.  He actually bends down so that the group of people on the ground tying bundles in front of the hut can’t see him.  But he can still hear them laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No talk, Tatenda,” Bucky says, laughing with them, although he’s blushing, too.  His Xhosa is rudimentary, but he’s picking it up fast, and the villagers know that he now understands much of what they say.  “If Thandiwe say yes, you are in trees, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tatenda laughs as loud as anyone at that.  Then one of the taller men gently corrects Bucky’s Xhosa as he hands him another armload of thatch bundles.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The work to combine the two huts at the edge of the lake is progressing well.  With the strength and stamina of two supersoldiers, and all the help they have, it’s gone surprisingly quickly.  The problem isn’t the construction, <em>per se</em>, it’s what it represents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky have lived in the settlement, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ilali</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for just over a year now.  Their goats are thriving.  Both men now speak conversational Xhosa.  Steve’s vocabulary is broader due to his eidetic memory, but Bucky’s accent is better because of the many languages he was forced to learn, and the punishments he endured until he could speak each with a local accent.  That’s bringing back some memories, but the healers have encouraged Bucky to view it as the victory it is.  It’s the first time he’s learned a language simply because he wanted to, and out of affection for the people who speak it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky have good friends in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ilali</span>
  </em>
  <span>, including an older lesbian couple who have essentially adopted them.  Queen Ramonda is becoming relentless about pressuring them to let her give them a wedding, and they’ve been able to assist T’Challa and the chieftains of the other tribes by teaching their warriors some new fighting techniques.  Steve and Bucky learned more from the tribes than they taught, of course, but T’Challa didn’t want to waste the opportunity to learn from them and Steve and Bucky are very aware of their obligations to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a happy rhythm to their life here, and a quiet, healing joy.  They’ve talked more than once about getting married, and even about accepting T’Challa’s invitation to become Wakandan citizens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Building a more permanent hut or accepting citizenship implies that they’re staying forever.  They’re not Wakandan.  Although Bucky was kept in Washington for many years, he was no more American then than he’d been when he’d been a prisoner in Siberia.  Still, in his heart, Bucky is American.  And Steve, of course, has been mourning the loss of Captain America and his forced flight from his country since he left his shield at Tony Stark’s feet on the floor of the bunker in Siberia.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They want to go home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve built a freestanding hammock of sorts outside their hut, and it’s become their nightly ritual to cuddle there after their evening swim.  Their friend Litha makes a homemade pineapple beer that is potent enough for even supersoldiers to feel, at least for a while.  It’s their favorite time of day, when the work is done and the air is cool, lying pressed together sipping at their drinks and looking up at the star-filled sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, they’re reminiscing about Brooklyn.  Bucky doesn’t remember everything, but they’ve made that into a sort of gift, because it means that sometimes Steve can tell him stories and it’s as if he’s hearing them for the first time.  At this point, Bucky remembers more than he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never see stars like this in Brooklyn,” Bucky notes quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True, but I could sure go for a big slice of pizza sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky can’t argue that.  He sighs and Steve feels him tense up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say it,” Steve warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t help it.  You’d be home now if it wasn’t for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> home, Buck.”  And he silences any further discussion by giving Bucky something else to do with his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some time later, when things have progressed to the point where the hammock is going to be very inconvenient, Steve slows down a bit.  He runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, which he does often because both of them love the way it feels, and puts his forehead to Bucky’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You given any more thought to what we talked about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky grins and leans in for another kiss.  “Think about it a lot, actually.  You gotta know how much I wanna marry you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But as great as it would be to let Ramonda go nuts, I don’t think it’s what either of us really wants.  Especially you.  I can wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, there’s no guarantee we’ll ever be able to go back to the U.S.  I don’t want to waste my life waiting for something that might never happen, when we could be married now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your call, pal.  Long as I got you with me, that’s all I really need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which, of course, brings tears to Steve’s eyes so that Bucky’s forced to call him a sappy little shit.  But that doesn’t stop him from rolling out of the hammock and pulling Steve into the hut, or seducing Steve into fucking him senseless.</span>
  
</p><p><span>*       </span> <span>*       </span> <span>*</span></p><p>
  <span>If Ramonda had her way, they’d be on the massive veranda of her palace overlooking the Golden City, and half of Wakanda would be there.  But even she has to admit, this is right for Steve and Bucky.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small, grassy area in front of the now-combined huts is filled with people, all of whom are smiling, even though some are dabbing at their eyes.  Steve and Bucky stand on the shore of the little lake, pledging their love and their lives to one another before a shaman who is the only person in Wakanda older than they are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both look extraordinary.  They’re extremely handsome men, anyway, and they’re wearing gorgeously embroidered suits that Ramonda firmly insisted they allow her to give them.  Steve’s is a deep, rich blue that matches his eyes, with silver stitching around the short collar and down the front.  Bucky’s is a creamy color somewhere between beige and white, with stitching the color of Steve’s suit.  They’ve both recently shaved and their friend Asemahle has cut their hair for them, which actually came close to derailing the wedding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky had wanted his hair cut short, like it had been when they were with the Howling Commandos.  He had argued that an event as solemn and important as their wedding calls for “serious hair,” rather than the near shoulder-length it had reached since they’d been in Wakanda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve wouldn’t hear of it.  He loves Bucky’s long hair, which Bucky knows because Steve tells him all the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d argued loudly about it until Asemahle had finally lost patience with both of them.  She had sworn to Steve that she wouldn’t cut Bucky’s hair short, if Steve would just go outside with her wife Litha and drink some of her pineapple beer so that Asemahle could work in peace.      </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This afternoon, Bucky’s dark hair is still long, but it’s neatly trimmed and tied back, gleaming in the light of the sunset.  Steve keeps getting lost in his eyes and forgetting to listen to the shaman.  Bucky, too, is having trouble concentrating.  He’s worked hard with the healers over the last year, since the night Steve proposed by firelight before the assembled villagers in the Wakandan tradition.  But here, now, looking at the stunningly handsome man he’s marrying and knowing all that Steve is, it’s almost painfully humbling even if Bucky’s come to accept that his love doesn’t tarnish Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shaman guides them through exchanging rings.  That isn’t common in Wakanda, but isn’t unheard-of, either, so there are approving nods when Bucky slips a simple gold band onto Steve’s finger.  What is unique to Steve and Bucky is the fact that Shuri, gorgeous in formal Wakandan dress, hands Steve what amounts to a high-tech soldering iron that he uses to fasten Bucky’s own gold band to his left hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never gettin’ that off,” Steve whispers to Bucky when it’s done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never gonna try,” Bucky whispers back with a wink that’s a little at odds with the moisture in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their assembled friends whistle and ululate through the very long, very emotional kiss that seals their marriage, but neither Steve nor Bucky hears a thing.  They’re too focused on one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a short ceremony followed by a long party, a combination that characterizes most Wakandan rituals.  After a sumptuous dinner, in the Wakandan tradition, the guests accompany the grooms from the clearing in the center of the settlement back to their hut, throwing flowers before their feet as they go.  Led by Tatenda, they subject Steve and Bucky to a fair amount of bawdy teasing, but once they’re inside, the assembly sings the traditional Wakandan wedding song and then returns to the party, leaving them alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither Steve nor Bucky wants electric light.  Not tonight.  They stand in one another’s arms in the low, warm light of a few candles burning in the sleeping room of their hut, glinting on the lone tear that escapes down Steve’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ sap,” Bucky murmurs, smiling as he kisses it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shakes his head, looking into his new husband’s eyes, always beautiful but especially so in the candlelight.  “I can’t believe it.  We’re married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lay down,” Bucky growls seductively.  “I’ll make ya’ believe it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve just grins and gives a low chuckle, all the love he feels shining from his eyes as he gazes at Bucky.  It’s a seemingly casual comment, but it tells Steve that Bucky’s feeling this moment every bit as profoundly as he is.  Bucky’s never been able to talk about his deepest emotions, always trying to protect his vulnerability with a joke.  Besides, Steve can plainly see Bucky’s adoration in the open, somewhat spellbound look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’Member that rickety old fire escape outside your apartment when we were kids?” Bucky whispers.  “Imagine if we’d been sittin’ out there like we used to, and I told you someday we’d be livin’ in Africa and married to each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d ’a socked you,” Steve answers in the same awestruck tone.  “Probably said, ‘Yeah, Buck, tell me another one.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can just hear you sayin’ it, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now here we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now here we are,” Bucky repeats reverently, stroking his fingers softly, tenderly down Steve’s cheek.  “Wish I was good with words, so I could tell you—  If I could freeze time, this is where I’d freeze it.  Right here.  This moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you wouldn’t wanna wait a little while, until I get my hands on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Bucky answers, as heartfelt as anything Steve’s ever heard him say.  And maybe there’s even a little break in Bucky’s voice when he says it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Bucky.  With everything I got.  Now and forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you the same way, Stevie.  Always have, always will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s so much food and good music to be shared that, as often happens in Wakanda, the guests are still enjoying the reception when the newly-married couple gets up the following morning and re-joins them.  In fact, such a thing is so common that there are traditional breakfast foods for the occasion.  Steve and Bucky are starving, a fact which does not escape Tatenda, and they have to endure yet more suggestive teasing over breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Midway through the meal, Bucky sees Steve’s expression go tight and his eyes turn to the trees between the gathering place and their hut.  Then Bucky hears it, too.  The shrill, tinny sound is too faint for anyone without supersoldier hearing to pick up, but to Steve and Bucky, it’s unmistakable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the old style flip-phone.  The one that only Tony Stark can call.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky doesn’t know or care what Infinity Stones are.  What he knows is that he didn’t like Tony Stark even before he blew Bucky’s arm off, and he <em>really</em> doesn’t like him now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, Bucky agrees with Steve and T’Challa that they have to help Wanda and Vision, and only Shuri has a hope of removing the Mind stone from Vision’s forehead.  Bucky really likes Wanda, so he’s prepared to like Vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also agrees that destroying one of the stones so that this Thanos asshole can’t complete his Glove of Doom or whatever is a sound plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he still resents the hell out of Stark interrupting his and Steve’s wedding breakfast.  Not to mention that Bucky should be bare-ass naked right now, enjoying week two of the sexiest honeymoon in the history of marriage.  Instead, he’s wearing a tac suit in the hot sun.  The suit is badass, but still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now none of the goats will give milk because of the noise the ugly-ass Chitauri are making trying to breach Wakanda’s protective perimeter.  Maybe that’s not Stark’s fault, but he blames Stark anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there are a shitload of Chitauri.  Fucking Thanos apparently only has freaks for friends, because in addition to the metal lizards that are drooling everywhere, he’s brought a bunch of other mooks.  So it’s a good thing Steve’s friends are freaks, too —  if much better looking — because it looks like this is gonna be a hell of a fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have to keep these assholes out of the City until Shuri can get the Mind stone out of Vision’s forehead and Wanda can destroy it.  Bucky sighs.  He is deeply weary, in his soul, of fighting.  He’d really much rather be in bed with his husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s husband, meanwhile, is standing with his former teammates, talking strategy.  Being the Avengers, it shouldn’t surprise Steve that he has to work to keep them on topic, even at a time like this.  They all want to talk about Steve’s marriage and make jokes.  He snaps at them authoritatively, but only because it’s so good to be in the middle of this again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, okay, and because there’s a massive battle imminent and they need to plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony’s wearing the Hulk Buster armor, so he’s way the heck up in the air.  That makes it a little hard to talk to him at all, let alone have any meaningful exchange.  But it doesn’t make any difference.  They both know they’ve already said the only things that matter:  Steve in the letter he sent to Tony along with the flip-phone, and Tony by reaching out to Steve when he learned about the threat Thanos poses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still have a lot of wounds to heal and things to figure out, but not today.  Today, they’re a team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inevitably, the Chitauri and Thanos’s creepy friends get through the barrier.  There are so many combatants, so many different armies and tribes and groups, that it’s hard for anyone to really understand what’s happening.  Only one thing matters, however, and that’s destroying the Mind stone.  So everyone just fights whoever is in front of them, monitoring their comms at all times to make sure the battle doesn’t get near Shuri’s lab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve, of course, does his best to put himself in as much danger as possible.  Some things are never gonna change, wedding ring or not.  Which means Bucky’s gotta keep him in sight and stop space amphibians and assorted pissed-off weirdos from killing him while, inevitably, Steve makes his way toward a fight with the worst one of them all.  Because Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thanos turns out to be kind of a half-raisin fella the size of the Hulk, but he talks a hell of a lot more than the Hulk does.  Bucky shoots him a bunch of times, because Thanos is laying out his plan for the universe, and that plan truly and entirely sucks.  Unfortunately, Thanos doesn’t seem to give a fuck about being shot, any more than the Hulk does.  And all Steve’s strength doesn’t seem to be any match for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iron Man, wearing the Hulk-buster armor, comes to Steve’s aid.  Between the two of them, they keep Thanos plenty occupied, although they don’t seem to be hurting him any.  Bucky, meanwhile, has his hands full with more of the Chitauri, one of whom gets him down on the ground and, in the scuffle, actually drools on his new tac suit.   Bucky pulls a knife and stabs him several times for that.  He’s just throwing the body off of him and realizing that Chitauri blood on his tac suit isn’t much better than their drool, when he hears Steve’s voice screaming, “Tony!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thanos has kept Tony from noticing the approach of a very tall, black-clad dude with a staff.  The staff is as tall as the dude is, and features sharp killing tools at each end.  Bucky has to admit, the weapon is extremely cool, although the poor fella looks like a corpse having a bad day.  He also has some kind of metal appendages on his headgear that look like sideways birds, or maybe propellers.  Bucky thinks they’re dumb and decides to cut those off for him at some point in this battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy’s staff is not only cool.  It’s also very effective.  He slices diagonally through the Hulk-buster armor like it’s nothing, leaving Tony defenseless and trapped within the now-powerless top third, which has been separated from the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky learns that the guy’s name is Corvus Glaive because that’s what Thanos, jawing as always, calls him when he compliments him on having taken out Iron Man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corvus Glaive strides toward Tony like he’s walking a runway and poses dramatically for a second, ready to skewer Iron Man.  Bucky rolls his eyes at the silly showmanship even as he hurls a knife into the guy’s face, narrowly missing Steve as he hastens to stand protectively over Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s knife doesn’t kill the corpse with the staff.  But Bucky kind of wanted to get a closer look at that staff, anyway, so he leaps over two Chitauri looking to tackle him, causing them to tackle each other, instead.  He shoots another point-blank as he runs to grab the staff where it lies on the ground next to a wounded Corvus Glaive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice blade, Chief,” Bucky says, as he uses it to cut him nearly in half.  “Huh,” Bucky grunts in approval, then tosses the staff onto the corpse and resumes killing Chitauri.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, Thanos’s infatuation with his own voice ends up being the thing that ruins his plan.  Because he spends far too long bloviating to Steve, confident in his army’s ultimate victory, while Steve protects Tony and Bucky protects Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve does what he can, punching and attacking Thanos with his Wakandan shield gauntlets, but it doesn’t hurt Thanos.  At most, he’s mildly irritated by it.  And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>just keeps on yakking</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He has a sword, but it didn’t take Bucky long to figure out he isn’t going to use it on Steve, because if he did, he’d lose his audience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy has a truly unfortunate face, anyway, and he’s kind of depressed-looking.  So Bucky actually laughs out loud when he sees the dismayed expression that comes over that sad purple mug when there’s a massive explosion and a long flash of light so bright it actually hurts his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?”  Thanos shrieks, and Steve takes a shaky step backward, legs wide apart as he sways in his exhaustion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the Mind stone,” Steve snarls between gasps for air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thanos’s defeated roar is nearly as loud as the explosion caused by the destruction of the Mind stone.  It rolls out over the massive battlefield, causing everyone to freeze for an instant, just long enough to realize what’s happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, if the Wakandan armies and the Avengers want to continue fighting, they have to chase their would-be opponents, because every single one of the invaders is in full retreat, running for their lives, Thanos among them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turns to Bucky with a drained, bitter smile.  He says nothing, just retracts his gauntlets and holds out his arms.  Dirt, blood, Chitauri drool and all, Bucky steps into them and Steve clasps his husband tightly to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows Bucky’s going to yell at him.  For damn sure, Steve’s going to get another lecture about how done Bucky is with him running toward the most dangerous things he can find.  He’s looking forward to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But first, they need to get Tony to the medical center and make sure the rest of the team is all right.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Three days later, all of them are in a beautifully-appointed conference room with T’Challa at the head of the very long table.  He looks every inch a king, if perhaps a little over Tony and Steve’s bickering.  Bucky knows for sure that he, himself is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony and Steve sit on T’Challa’s right and left, facing one another.  They’ve been doing most of the talking since the meeting started, with occasional comments from Dr. Banner, Agent Romanoff and Colonel Rhodes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky is sitting between Clint and Sam, toward the other end of the table. Clint’s a funny guy.  Bucky would probably be a lot more impatient if Clint wasn’t sitting next to him, muttering wickedly snarky things that make him have to smother laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam glares at them occasionally, like they’re cutting up in church.  But Sam is also doodling words like “Bullshit” and “Bitch, please” on a piece of paper in front of him, and he’s making no effort to hide it.  He even nudges Bucky with a grin, showing him that he’s made the “O” in “Boring” into a skull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky gets that this meeting, and reuniting with the Avengers, is of paramount importance to Steve.  The idea of them no longer being international fugitives is important to Bucky, too.  It’s just that diplomacy takes so fucking long.  A good fistfight is a lot quicker and easier.  Loser says he’s wrong and apologizes.  Boom.  Done.  Bucky and Steve return to their hut and get back to their horizontal honeymoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, they’ve been here for hours and they’re only now getting down to details. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks over at Vision, marveling again at his appearance.  The Mind stone is gone, destroyed by the Scarlet Witch.  Gone, too, is the maroon robot-looking fella with metal in his face.  In his place is just… a guy.  He still sounds like Vision, but he looks like the average guy you’d meet down at the pub.  Clearly, he still has some of his extraordinary abilities.  Equally clearly, Wanda is not at all unhappy with his very normal looks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The people doing the talking drone on.  Those who fought for Steve at the airport seem content to let Steve speak for them, which makes sense.  He is doing very well.  His pleasant, resonant voice is saying much more reasonable things than Bucky could have said in his place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky lets his mind drift, thinking about the delightfully filthy things he’s heard that voice say recently, and pretty soon he’s pleasantly tuned out.  He comes back to the present when he hears his own name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not negotiable,” Steve says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I get that you two are married now—" Tony begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we have a good life here.  We’ve been perfectly happy here for over two years, and I gotta tell ya’, I haven’t missed getting shot at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not, but you have a powerful need to interfere in things that aren’t your business.  Don’t tell me being a goat farmer feeds your need for righteous indignation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got more of a need to be with my husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony rolls his eyes as only Tony can, and the tiniest grimace crosses his face, as though he might have actually pulled some muscle in his face that time.  “I’m good, Rogers, but even I can’t get a full pardon for The Winter Soldier.  Also, eeew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha’s fighting a grin when she says, “Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>can’t, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> can.  Thanos did us a solid here.  Showed people they need us, because there are big threats out there, and they’re not going to hold their attacks until after some committee meets to decide whether we get to respond.  The U.N. is already asking us to come back so we can be ready for the next threat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Natasha’s right, Tony,” Rhodey puts in.  “And you want to remember who that pardon would come from.  A second-term President with nothing to lose, who happens to owe me a couple favors.  And who, if you don’t recall, has been mooning over how much he misses Captain America ever since you came back without him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to mention that I am not the only world leader who intends to put pressure on him to pardon all of them, including Sergeant Barnes, now that we have undeniable proof of his innocence and he is free of the triggers,” T’Challa adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, Tony?”  Natasha asks, spreading her hands.  “You’re not going to be selling this alone.  All we have to do is stand together, and make our position clear.  If the world wants the Avengers to keep saving its ass, then they take us all, including Bucky.  Or maybe we’ll all retire to farms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns her head to catch Clint’s eye and give him a significant look.  Bucky, meanwhile, gapes at her, stunned that she’s suggesting they all put themselves on the line for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that no one’s objecting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony shakes his head, but he’s smiling as he looks at Steve.  “You know, I forgot what a pain in the ass these guys are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles back.  “Handy in a fight, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony’s face goes serious.  “So are you.  You saved my life.  Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re a team, Tony.  It’s what we do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, T’Challa stands, a gesture that signals as well as words that they’ve reached an agreement.  Thor, who has been so uncharacteristically quiet that several at the table have realized he’s been asleep with his eyes open, booms enthusiastically into the room that it’s time to celebrate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is what they do.  And because it’s Wakanda, the celebration lasts much longer than the never-ending meeting had.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Secretary of State Ross shrieks to every camera that points his way that the United States and the United Nations should not give in to blackmail.  There’s a lot of “I told you so,” with Ross blatantly accusing the Avengers of what amounts to a coup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony’s humorous tweets and sound bites on the subject get passed around the internet every bit as often as cat videos and conspiracy theories.  They cleverly and easily expose the bloated bureaucracy that has already made the Accords unworkable.  Public opinion is with the Avengers, which just further enrages Ross.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amused as the world is by those two and their war of words, they’re only really paying attention to three people.  The President of the United States, the Secretary General of the U.N., and Steve Rogers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s riding a wave of public adoration that approaches what happened when he was found, impossibly alive, under the arctic ice.  It’s not just because he has returned to the Avengers after over two years, and people feel safer again.  It’s because of the incredibly romantic story of Captain America, pining away for his best friend, supposedly lost forever without ever hearing Steve’s “I love you,” only to learn that the man he loves is alive, against all odds.  People can’t get enough of the tragic love story turned rescue and happily-ever-after, with Steve defying the entire world for Bucky, and Bucky being cured of his brainwashing by Steve’s love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky, of course, hates it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally had to give up the internet entirely after developing a migraine from Tony Stark-level eyerolls.  And he actually gave Tony a black eye for calling him Rapunzel and Sleeping Beauty one too many times.  Bucky knows who’s the more messed up between himself and Steve.  He also knows that, as precious as Steve’s love is, his mind was cured by Shuri’s technology.  And if they want happily ever after, he knows that both he and Steve still have a fuckton of work to do with the healers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he does like that the world appreciates Steve the way he deserves.  Steve’s all but convinced that the President will issue full pardons to all six of them facing charges, and that the Sokovia Accords will be abandoned as wrongheaded and unworkable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the meantime, Steve needs to be in New York to deal with the U.N. and the press, and so that he can quickly travel to Washington D.C. when his presence there will help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one really knows what kind of diplomatic chicanery went on behind the scenes that resulted in fully legal Wakandan passports for Steve, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott.  All anyone knows is that all six are free to live their lives without fear of being arrested pending the President’s decision and the U.N. vote.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, and that Queen Ramonda played a significant role in whatever happened.    </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a perfect early Autumn afternoon in Brooklyn, and Steve’s patting his belly after devouring so many folded-over slices of pizza that he isn’t sure he’ll be able to get up from the booth.  He knows he’ll have to, though, because Bucky is practically bouncing up and down with excitement now that lunch is over and he can finally show Steve whatever the surprise is.  Steve isn’t crazy about surprises, which Bucky well knows, but he swears he’ll love this one.  Steve’s skeptical, but he lets Bucky drag him out of the booth and practically pull him down the street by his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s still difficult to hold hands with Bucky in public, even after three months in New York.  It helps quite a bit that Steve can tell himself all the looks they get are because he’s Captain America and everyone knows their story, rather than for any negative reason.   He hopes it won’t always feel risky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although he has all he can do working toward getting his friends pardoned and the Sokovia Accords repealed, he almost always gets asked about his sexual orientation in interviews.  He won’t discuss his marriage — Bucky won’t do interviews at all — but he always makes sure to refer to himself as “a member of the gay community” and “bisexual.”  He’s not sure “bisexual” is quite the right word, since the only man he’s ever been attracted to is Bucky, but he has no intention of discussing that publicly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, it really doesn’t make a shred of difference.  Bucky is it for him.  End of story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky leads him deeper into the nice residential neighborhood, to a street with family homes on either side.  He used to get like this on birthdays and Christmas, when he couldn’t wait for Steve to open whatever present he’d given him.  It’s cute as hell, and Steve makes Bucky’s impatience worse by twice stopping him to kiss the boyish smile off his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop!  Rogers, for fuck’s sake, control yourself.  And get a move on.  She’s waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?  Who’s waiting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come</span>
  <em>
    <span> on</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”  And now Bucky really does begin literally pulling Steve by the hand down the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stop in front of a two-story brick attached house, with bow windows on both floors, and a little stoop.  It’s kind of a mini-brownstone, with a wrought iron fence around the tiny concrete patio that serves as a front yard.  There are a couple of potted shrubs in the yard flanking a series of containers overflowing with flowers.  Over the front door is a pretty green awning with the house number on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were kids, this is the kind of house Bucky had lived in, and to Steve it had seemed like a mansion.  Steve smiles and admires it, but Bucky only allows that for a few seconds before tugging his hand again toward the open wrought iron gate and the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opens before they reach it, and a smiling woman of medium height with big hair steps out onto the stoop.  “Sergeant Barnes, I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I’m sorry.  He had to eat half the pizza in Brooklyn, and then I couldn’t get him to walk any faster than my grandma, and she only had one leg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your grandma had both legs,” Steve argues irrelevantly, and the look on Bucky’s face really deserves another kiss, but the woman’s standing there beaming at them like they’re live entertainment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Rogers, I’d recognize you anywhere.”  She holds out a hand.  “I’m Connie Zamudio.  I’m the realtor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s head swivels to Bucky even as he keeps the woman’s hand in his.  “The realtor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the hundred years Steve’s known him, Bucky has never looked so smug.   “Honey, we’re home,” he singsongs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re—?   What are you—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connie the realtor gives a giggle almost as smug as Bucky looks, and steps back into the house, waving a welcoming arm.  “Come on in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s mouth stays hanging open as he steps into the little foyer, which for as miniscule as it is, still has slate flooring and a beautiful art-glass overhead light fixure.  There’s a rounded doorway into a living room, empty except for a wall of built-in bookshelves and a padded seat in the bow window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky, what did you do?”  Steve asks incredulously, looking around with the beginnings of what he can already tell is going to be a huge, goofy smile.  It’s a very nice house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bought you a wedding present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already gave me a wedding present.  Goats.  A doe and a—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but that was for our wedding in Wakanda.  For our wedding here, I’m giving you a house.  I’m romantic like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what—?  How—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks at the realtor and shrugs.  “What’d I tell you, Connie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think your word was ‘incoherent.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I don’t use words that big.  I said ‘dumbstruck,’ which—" Bucky gestures toward Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turns to Connie for help.  “What is he talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the short version is, the two of you own this house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we live in Wakanda!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, for now.  But anyone who watches the news knows you’re going to be pardoned and you’ll be back to leading the Avengers.  And let me tell you, your husband is particular.  Windsor Terrace is about the fifth neighborhood we’ve scoured looking for a house he liked.  I think we’ve toured—"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, c’mon, Connie, I thought you liked our dates,” Bucky wheedles, and just like every other woman Steve’s seen Bucky use that tone on, Connie Zamudio flushes pink and is ready to give Bucky anything he wants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> been fun,” she admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house is cozy, with a pretty and private back yard so small Steve estimates it can be mowed in five minutes.  He finds himself imagining putting a table on the concrete slab outside the door and spending lazy mornings out there with his coffee.  The bow window in the bedroom would make for an intimate sitting area where he can see himself drawing Bucky’s profile while he reads.  There’s a kitchen and a dining room that would be fairly crowded if they had all the Avengers over for dinner or a poker night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s perfect.  Steve’s just sorry they have to wait for closing before he can race Bucky up the stairs and see if he’s right that they can both fit in the oversized bathtub.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>*       *       *</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>President Ellis grants pardons to Steve, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Wanda and Scott.  There’s a backlash, of course, led by Secretary of State Ross, who resigns in protest.  The backlash gets very little press, at least in comparison to the pictures that are leaked of the tastefully intimate — and carefully-timed — wedding ceremony in the roof garden on top of Avengers Tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s not sure he likes the idea of their American wedding being some sort of political stunt, but when he sees Steve in his tuxedo, alight with happiness and more at peace than Bucky has ever seen him, he forgets all that.  He’d marry Steve any time, for any reason.  Or none.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve couldn’t care less about the timing of their American wedding.  He just wants to share his happiness with this group of people, who are his family.  He feels like this ceremony is about much more than his marriage to Bucky which, after all, already existed.  It’s a reason for all of the Avengers and many of their friends from SHIELD to gather and re-form the bonds that have been so badly fractured by all that’s happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s completely dazzled by how good Bucky looks in his blue tux.  So dazzled, in fact, that he’s no better able to focus on this ceremony than the first one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Afterward, Steve is standing, taking a moment for himself while he sips at a glass of excellent champagne and looks out over the lights of New York.  As much as he loves Wakanda, it’s awfully good to be home.  When someone steps up next to him, he knows without looking that it’s Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was kinda romantic, for two geriatric dudes engaging in an entirely superfluous charade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, Tony, you must absolutely sweep Pepper off her feet with that kind of smooth talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try,” Tony shrugs, and takes a sip of whatever is in his glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve keeps enjoying the view, letting Tony take his time to say whatever’s on his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed you, Cap.  I really did.  And I would never have thought I’d hear myself say it, but you and Sergeant Dollface over there make a really good couple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a great addition to the team, Tony.  You saw that in Wakanda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, for sure.  The guy’s got big brass— well, you’d know.  I admit it, I’m glad to have him with us.  Bring on the aliens or killer robots or whatever.  Can’t wait to see what we can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys could live in the Tower, you know.  Or out at the Compound.  What’s the deal with Brooklyn, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Steve turns toward Tony.  “Brooklyn’s home.  And I know I’m not supposed to know about it, but thank you.  For the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?  I had nothing to do with it.  The hubby bought that house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean you gave him the idea and the money and he paid you back once we got through all the Army red tape.  Which, thank you for that, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony clutches his imaginary pearls and gives a comic look of wounded pride.  “Okay, now that’s just hurtful, accusing me of being a nice guy.  On such a happy occasion, too.  Forget the whole thing.  I hate you again.  In fact, just for that, I’m gonna go flirt with your husband.  Who, can I just say, is an absolute snack, and I don’t even swing that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hands off, Stark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony wanders away, happily muttering ridiculously to himself, leaving Steve to stand looking at a roomful of people he loves.  And in the middle, laughing raucously with Sam, is the man who has been the center of his life since before he can remember.  Happy, safe, and whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, best of all, his.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ugogo -  Granny</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Steve and Bucky settle down in Wakanda, learning to tend goats and healing from all they've been through.  Until a very important meal is interrupted by the ringing of that flip phone that only Tony Stark can call.<br/>It's a new beginning for the Avengers, and a homecoming for Steve and Bucky.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Happily ever after.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Now, that was just uncalled for!” Steve yells, and launches himself halfway across the little lake to dunk Bucky in retaliation for the massive splash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They come up sputtering and wrestling, and Tatenda shouts in Xhosa, “You two are worse than my children!  And you’d better remember they are here watching.  Behave yourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky and Steve turn identical way-too-innocent looks on him. “Who, us?” Bucky asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know exactly what I mean.  We are lucky you are wearing swim trunks.  You are elderly and you’ve been married five years now.  Have some restraint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky’s former huts on the shore of the little lake have been expanded again, because Tatenda’s wife Thandiwe is expecting their third child. Tatenda is only home for lunch before returning to his goats.  Steve and Bucky gave him their small herd, along with the hut, as a wedding gift, and the herd is now twice the size it was.  It keeps him busy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s time for the supersoldiers to end their swim, anyway, because after lunch, they need to return to the Golden City.  They’re only in Wakanda for two more nights, and they’re expected at Queen Ramonda’s palace where she will, undoubtedly, pressure them some more about starting a family.  They’re looking forward to the visit nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve definitely needed the two weeks they’ve been staying in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ilali</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  It’s been a long couple of months this time, what with the lunatic scientist releasing flocks of trained giant grasshoppers (</span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>?), the attempted invasion of Earth by aliens that look like armored broccoli, and Loki, alive again and being Loki.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These days, most people don’t remember that they used to be mad at the Avengers, and Steve is ridiculously strict about minimizing collateral damage during missions.  Not that the space broccoli made that easy but, fortunately, this time the video showed off the Avengers’ new safety tactics nicely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve may pull all of his hair out before he can get Thor and Professor Hulk fully on board, but he’s Steve.  Which means he’s Not. Letting. It. Go.  They complain about having their fighting styles curbed, but Bucky’s money’s on Steve.  Steve was born with his heels dug in, and he's had a lifetime of practice clenching his fists and insisting on things.  Bucky's confident he can out-stubborn even a 1500-year-old Asgardian Prince and a massive green nerd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve and Bucky have been required — by Shuri — to return to Wakanda every two months since moving to Brooklyn five years before.  In addition, they’ve had remote appointments with the healers that have gradually become less frequent over time.  They never tried to get out of the in-person visits, and Steve only tried to get out of a remote appointment once.  Shuri came to Brooklyn.  It wasn’t pretty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, however, Rajabu and the other healers have agreed that such formal arrangements are no longer necessary for either Steve or Bucky.  Tomorrow’s visit will be a celebration, more than an appointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Steve and Bucky have come a long way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still have occasional night terrors and nightmares filled with trains and weapons that shoot blue light, but now they have skills and techniques for dealing with them. Steve still has to remind Bucky sometimes that he is worthy of all of the good things he now has in his life.  And there will never be a time when Steve won’t need Bucky to cuss him out for insisting he’s “fine” when he isn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, Bucky enjoys the hell out of cussing Steve out.  He can usually get Steve to listen to reason and call the healers or talk it out with him.  And, when necessary (and it occasionally is), Bucky is physically capable of tackling Steve and holding him still until he does.  And that’s fun, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Incredibly, there are still pockets of nasty fools who persist in trying to blow new life into the decayed embers of Hydra. Those get fewer and fewer all the time, because whenever such a group is found, what’s left when Captain America and The Winter Soldier are done with it is a grim warning to anyone else stupid enough to try.  Steve and Bucky have also developed a reputation for smiling wickedly as they rip Hydra operations apart.  Tony Stark’s publicity people insist that’s a silly, overdramatic rumor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you, Lenne, for your spectacular art, and for your delightfulness while I was writing.  Thanks, too, for your technical assistance with AO3 and for not laughing at me (at least in front of me) for being such a dork.  </p><p>Writing a Steve and Bucky reunion / Bucky recovery story has been a goal of mine for a long time, and it was a joy to write.  I absolutely love these goofballs and I love the idea of them helping each other recover from the hell they've been through.  I especially like the idea that Bucky and Sam, his closest friends, know what a mess he is and want nothing more than to love him through it.  Even if he is the most Stubborn Man In The World.™  </p><p>And Steve and Bucky getting married?  Had to.  And had to do it casually, like, "Of course we're getting married, but it ain't like it changes anything.  We were gonna live happily ever after anyway."</p><p>Thank you so very much for reading.  It makes all the effort and anxiety worth it when people read my work.  Please let me know what you thought!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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